Yuletide
by Walking as Giants
Summary: A Christmas story about Druids, the corruption of industry and the marginalization of the working class. Also there's a cat
1. Prologue

Prologue

Imagine a painting, oiled with pastels, painted to curves and slips and dips of the brushed. Dabbed with splotches of white foam purifying the spatter off beach and rock. And above it, the Dynnarch Monarch, a bread and butter of the small town. The integration of the building and the walls of the harbor slipstreamed into the ocean. At long last, our artist entered the veil, and set his paintbrush down, passing back into the door of reality. The bar inside was but a canvas to him, and the people, just paint.

He sat down and began to see onward in the corner, an elderly man singing a shanty. A shanty of a story, of a hero, and the town on a night like tonight.

SAILOR

A merrier place you may believe

Was Mousehole on Tom Bawcock's Eve.

To be there then who wouldn't who wouldn't wish

To sup on seven sorts of fish.

A musician joined the group and plucked his fiddle from the case, sawing along the string and chiming in with a melody.

SAILORS

When murgy broth had cleared the path

Comed lances for a fry

And then us had a bit o' scad

And starry gazey pie.

The music stopped as the sailors danced to the tune, their massive boots booming against the floor. The ladies joined in and countered with their lighter shoes rapping across the floor. The men retaliated, their fiddler returning to the fray.

SAILORS

Next comed fair maids

Brave thrusty jades

As made our oozles dry

And ling and hake

Enough to make

A running shark to sigh

All jumped into the song, and the leader of this chant was an elderly man with a long white beard. He could have been mistaken for Father Christmas if not for his blue attire. He wasn't as adept at dancing, but he led them in song, and soon swung into a bar stool and swerved to face them with a drink in hand.

SAILORS

As each we'd clunk

As health were drunk

In bumpers brimming high

And when up came

Tom Bawcock's name

We praised him to the sky!

The music died down slowly and everyone turned to the old man, repeating the last verse.

OLD MAN

And when up came...

Tom Bawcock's name…

We praised him to the sky.

Everyone went silent to overhear the yearly tale from the Old Man, and his memory of the life of the sailor that saved them from certain death. Our artist joined them in the background to listen and hear the story of a hero unlike any other.


	2. Chapter 1

Cornwall, Many years ago…

Once upon a time in the days of old, there was once a place so long ago at it once was said, that you know, where commoners creep and heroes go; but that's just stories in tow and so here we are, come so far but not quite there but evils lurk so you must beware for our tale begins on a sunny day where a knight does go out for a dragon to slay, on the great wide sea where our tale has begun, let loose the tale of the pinnacle son.

How betwixt! Throughout the mist, a hero did emerge and surge to purge to hurt the mighty beast on which we are fixed. A cardboard sword! A golden hoard! And a scaly green monster against the lord. But it's true to find, its through a mind, of a child so wild, to come up with this story so fine. It's true, but not. In the most convenient spot.

Funny little tale like hunting a whale in this little microscopic lot. Funny little thought. In the most convenient spot…

Funny little tale in a convenient spot…

"Tom!" A call alas came from along the wind, where Dana did call for the knight. Tom was clad in carded armor with an appropriate helmet forged by Lady Dana. Tom put down the toy dragon and set it down on the garden below. The back garden was heavily grassy and sprinkled with water like tips of snow upon the mountains of Nepal. There, Tom's dragon did sleep and rose to face him every day(except on school days).

The old wooden lining of the Bawcock Household was cleaned, but undettered by the burden of insects and scoundrels. The cold held them in place and the sun kept the surfaces warm in defense of the rain up above.

Tom ran up to the porch of the house where Dana held the door open for him and let him inside. The interior of the house was tiled, and some rooms were shared, by people and occupancies alike. The stone flooring of the kitchen was broken by the carpeting of the living room, and that in turn was broken by Dana taking the cardboard armor off her son.

"Your father will be coming home soon. Be on your best behavior." Dana insisted, "It's not often he gets time off you know."

"I know mum!" Tom whined as the helmet was removed. It was very difficult to describe Dana now. In the small town around them, Tom only recognized Dana as 'Mum' and couldn't distinguish her features as anything other than that. Assigning a description to anyone would imply others had those traits, but Tom had yet to find anyone quite like Mum.

Dad, on the other hand, was very well defined. There were many people in town like him. He was old, dusty, and thick skinned. He was a familiar stranger to his own home. He loved them, and they loved him, but he hardly stayed. The mine was his home, but not his home. Sira knocked on the door of the household and waited to see Dana open the door.

He smiled to see her, but he could barely see her through the bouquet he had bought for her which definitely wasn't on sale when he got them. Sira wore a black coat for the brisk outside air, and a red handkerchief, tucked into the pockets of his coat. A black, greying moustache with a curly beard balanced on his chin.

"Good evening sweetness!" He greeted through the flowers. They muffled his voice, but the message was clear.

"Oh, you forgot my name again." Dana blinked at him and pursed her lips. She went back inside and instructed Sira to "Put the flowers in a pot."

Tom ran up to Sira and hugged his legs, nearly tripping him. This caught Sira off guard and he nearly fell over.

"Oof! Careful!" Sira warned his son as he regained his balance.

"I missed you!" Tom shouted to him. Sira gasped and smiled anxiously. He turned towards Dana for assistance, but she was already working on setting up a camera the size of her left arm. She twisted a little black knob along the tripod and hurried over to the two.

"I just got back. Are you sure now is a good time?" Sira whispered to Dana, who hissed back as she forced a smile, "How many other chances do you think we'll get before you have to go back?"

Tom piped a note of confusion at the conversation and looked up at the two as the camera flashed.

The resulting photograph was put on a wall a few days later once the picture was processed. The frame held the black and white picture in place and kept it level over the fireplace. Tom passed it without mind on his way out the door. Dana stopped him in his tracks, stepping ahead of the door.

"Not so fast, it is freezing outside." Dana quickly straddled Tom with layer upon layer of coats and caps, until at long last he closely resembled a marshmallow covered in yarn and wooly sweaters. Dana sighed at the sight in relief, then concluded, "Ok, now go ahead."

She opened the door for him, and Tom proudly waddled out the door into the snow. Dana closed the door behind him, then shivered, chattering her teeth at the cold.

"Sira dearest! Would you mind going out and keeping an eye on Tom for me? I don't want him getting hurt!" Dana shouted out to the house. Sira could be heard calling back from the other room, "He's fine!"

There was a knock at the back door and Dana opened the door to see Tom standing there covered in snow. With a polite tone, he asked, "Did you know snow is cold?"

"Yes. Are you ok?" Dana replied. Tom looked to her, then the snow, and said, "Yep."

Dana closed the door again and almost immediately thereafter there was another knock at the door. She opened it to see Tom still at the door.

"Yes, monkey?" She asked. Tom raised his hand to ask a question.

"You don't need to raise your hand, Tom."

"Oh."

"What were you going to say?"

"Snow is cold."

"Yes?"

"…Can I come back inside now?" Tom asked. Dana was a little surprised, but at the same time, related with her son on this matter.

"It's been thirty seconds. And you talked endlessly about waning to go out into the snow."

"Yes, Mum. But, respectfully, snow is cold."

Dana couldn't argue with that perfect argument and she didn't like the door being open letting the cold come in, so she let Tom back inside. He waddled back inside and dumped all his wet ad freezing clothes onto the wooden floor. Dana groaned and began to pick them up, grimacing at the feel of the cold.

And, with that, the second photograph came to be. Thee whole family was gathered together to take a picture in the snow with a beautiful background behind them. This was much less surprising when the frame was titled, '1908, Bentman Shopping Mall'.

This photo was wobbled when Tom ran into the house in a mad panic. Dana was busy talking to Sira.

"I could pick up a job at the grocer. It's fine." She assured Sira, who was reading through some letters with a pair of spectacles delicately balancing atop the tip of his nose.

"I'm worried about this Dana, its…"

"It's always been like this Sira. You just aren't there to see it."

Before Sira can respond, Tom runs up and tugs at his arm. Sira looks startled and sets down the letters.

"My goodness! What is it, monkey?" Dana asked the little scamp.

"There's—" Tom stammered and freaked out his words in anxiety. "There's a bee outside."

Dana and Sira both went to the door and peered out the small kitchen window to see a small bee flying about the flowers of spring. Sira harrumphed at the insect then Tom opened the door and pushed him outside, closing the door behind Sira. Sira looked surprised and frightened, especially at the sudden change in atmosphere.

"Take one for the team honey!" Dana called out, practically laughing maniacally at the situation, but Tom was too frightened to say anything else. He looked wildly about the room in terror while Sira took care of the bee.

And here, was the spring photograph of a bee covering the lens as the family tried to take a good picture in their Easter garments. With the next photograph came a rugby team, but thankfully for Tom, he was not pictured on the team, and neither were his parents. Instead, the rugby team was depicted in the background of the classroom as Tom discussed his father and mother to the classroom.

"My mum works at a grocer down on Flanner St, and my dad works at a copper mine up the hill." Tom introduced himself to the class with the pictures of himself and his family over the last year. The classroom was small and dimly lit by big white windows. Beside Tom was a teacher with a long ruler who scowled over the classroom.

A student raised his hand and the teacher replied, "Yes William?"

"My dad works at the mine too! He says it's haunted." William called out. Tom was taken back by this comment and slowly responded, "Haunted?"

"There are spirits in the mine. You have to leave them a pastry or they'll eat your breath. They keep a canary down there to find out if the ghosts are angry."

Tom squinted to think about the comment even through the next lesson as the teacher rambled on.

"Many of the Christmas traditions we celebrate now are because of the druids, an ancient group of clerics. Most of the accounts we have of the druids were from Roman accounts lasting over hundreds of years ago…" This was all Tom could hear before it faded into jibberish and he stopped listening, caught on the idea that the mine might be haunted.

"Hey Tom, don't worry about it." William assured him, catching his attention. "I was worried about it too. But we won't ever be down there."

"Yeh! Me mum works down there too. But we won't grow up to be like them, will we?" James interluded. Tom thought about these comments, but the three were quickly silenced by the teacher slapping his ruler on the desk ahead of them. "Pay attention!"

The three turn their attention back to the chalkboard, fearful of the cruel crack of the ruler.

Years pass and pictures are added above the fireplace. Gradually, young Tom begins to grow up, but as he does, he begins to inch away from his mother and father, whose hands still reach for him in each photograph. But with age, his distance grows wider from them, despite their best efforts.

His relationship with the chaps changed as well. There was an occasion where they were going through town talking when they pass by a similar trio of girls hanging out by the _Fox's Glove and Pine's Tree_. Tom had aged about as well as most teenagers aged, still in that awkward stage where he was trying to understand why he looked like a baboon.

"Hey! It's Lizzie Halflagan! She's aged well ain't she?" The hormone filled William asked Tom, nudging him with his elbow. Tom acknowledged him and chuckled at the two. "Yeah, she's…something. But…didn't you used to put gum in her hair?"

"Past is the past, mate. Now she's a beaut!"

"She kinda just looks the same to me." Tom admitted, "Why not somebody completely different?"

William looked offended, "Different? Like Rowena? She ain't bad either."

"But we know her! We grew up in study hall with her."

"Well…we grew up with all these beauts. And look at the reward! Blooming fantastic!"

Tom groaned and asked William and James, "But…there has to be someone new. Someone who isn't just the same people we've known all our lives."

"Yeah yeah. Great wide somewhere. But, have you seen the great wide something on Denice?" William scoffed at him. James added in a heavy, impossible to comprehend jumble of accent, "Aidlaktafwurmteplebar!"

"James! You scoundrel!" William slugged James in the shoulder, "Anyway. I'll be seeing ya around Tom. Me and James have got a job over in the mine."

"You work at the mine?" Tom noticed the harsh change in decision making from when they were children. William and James nodded. The older of the two and the more understandable explained, "Of course! Well, we're aspiring to be jazz musicians. Figured working in the mine might be a good way to save up for that. We got other bills to pay but we'll get there eventually!"

"Ok. Uh…I'll just… head home then." Tom finished with, sadly looking back at his childhood friends.

"I'll say hi to your dad for yeh!" William called back to him.


	3. Chapter 2

The Mines

We opened with a leaf falling from a tree above onto some blades of grass dripping with dew. The background was a large grey clouded mass of stratosphere. A drop fell from the sky and landed upon a snail's head. It quickly regressed back into its shell before sliding down the leaf as more rain comes down, pushing the snail delicately below the grass as it begins to pour. As the snail went down, so too does the rainwater, falling further with a rush of earth onto a dimly lit lantern undisturbed by wind and insects. The crackled rocks and bent wooden planks hardly can sustain the ceiling above, and long lines of men in metal helmets stretched along the mine. Across their shoulders were pickaxes, bouncing up and down as they walk down the corridor, their boots clipping and clopping on the ground below. Water dripped from up above onto the dirt, its dripping coinciding with the rhythm of the boots upon the floor.

MINERS

Beneath the ground so deep,

Below the bloated mire

Here in the caverns we creep,

Seeing with metal fire.

Light the way

Light the path

Keep your ambition proper

All the while hack away to the calls of tin and copper

A pick struck upon the wall, strengthing the rhythm of the sounds of the water and the boots alike. Miners went across layers and layers of wooden bridges where more workers dug away at the walls of the mine. As the tune rose, an elevator at the end of the mining corridor dropped down, where more workers came down and the sheeted door slides open for them. In Sira Bawcock's hand dangled a cage covered by a blanket. In the other hand was a basket. Sira was emphasized as the group moved along the corridors, turning down another path towards a separate tunnel. The worker set down the basket on a rock, and the other miners gathered around, opening it to see a pasty. The miners all took a bit of the pasty for themselves, but left the crust behind.

MINERs

Mountain is as mountain does,

The ghosts it leaves behind

Leave a treat for those who pass

For those lost in the mine.

A drum beat slammed down with an explosive going off as more miners went further into the caverns as dust filled the air.

So, break rock and stone and deeper gone

Until your breath from you shall leave

Hold on to your grief

So long as we hear the canary's song

We all shall feel relieved.

Meanwhile, Sira hung up the cage on a metal hook and removed the woolen blanket. Inside a yellow canary sprung to life and began to flutter about. It whistled along to the music while Sira gave it some crumbs from the pasty, his hand dusty and thick with his working gloves. Sira brushed off some of the dust on his hand, then took a lantern from the wall, leading himself deeper into the mine. Every miner took a pick and began to slam it against the rock.

MINERS

Deeper! Colder!

Hold close your comrade

Find a pal and hold their shoulder

So, neither of you go mad

Occasionally, a worker pushing a minecart would come through, who then stopped to let the workers fill it with buckets of tin. The canary's song kept the workers going, and they occasionally looked back at the bird to make sure it's alright. They squinted at tin ore in the rock, then hacked it out with their pick before loading it into a bucket below them. Sira loaded up the minecart then pushed it to William with one foot. William caught it with both hands then shoved it back down towards James.

MINERS

Keep working till the power dies

Work until your lungs collapse

If you hear a ghostly cry

It's a momentary lapse

The minecarts were pushed onto the elevator and the iron gating was closed soon thereafter, followed by James pulling a lever on the side to send up the cart to the upper floors of the mine.

MINERS

So, hold on tight to the Canary's Song

Keep pushing on through

Don't think about what could go wrong

They're all depending on you

The miners continued their shanty, sweating from the work and wiping it off their brow before cutting apart more rocks. Their breath became shallow and they all kept looking back at the canary as it whistled and tweeted. The song pushed the miners through, keeping them determined through the heavy work and lighter air. Sira pulled out a family photo of a younger version of himself, young Tom, and Dana. He sighed and wiped off his brow with his handkerchief, then shoved it and the photograph back in his pocket, swallowing as he sweat harder and hacked away at the stone. William recreated this process and took out a picture of his sweetheart, Lizzie. James did the same, but dropped the photograph. It fluttered to the ground, revealing a picture of a man in swimwear for everyone to see. The miners stared judgingly at James as he picked it up and chuckled nervously.

MINERS

Hack away and wait for night

Tuck your children in tight

Love them dearly, you may find

You one day lose them to the mine

Hold on to Canary's Song

The sum of all our tears

If that cry were ever to stop

We'd succumb to all our fears

The miners continued to dig and hack and sing, only to stop when the canary stops playing along with the tune. The music completely slowly died, as all the miners turned towards the cage. As their eyes focused upon the bird, the canary's eyes were closed and its body was at the bottom of the container.

Instantly, there was a mad scramble to escape the tunnel. Miners pushed past one another and clambered up the wooden stairs leading to the path of the elevator. Sira tried to join them, but was knocked down onto the ground. He grimaces as he scrapes his arm against the rocks imbedded in the dirt floor. With a snarl, he climbed to a now open path. He ran up to the elevator, followed by three other miners. The elevator is filled to the brim.

"Is everyone in?" Sira called out to the group. Multiple miners replied with nods or words of affirmation. Eventually their eyes locked to the lever outside of the elevator in dread. Sira looked horrified, then eventually frowned, looking back at the younger workers behind him. William and James looked terrified, fearful for their lives. They were grown, but still children.

Sira stepped out of the elevator, his head lowered in sadness, but James grabbed his arm. He was a young man, but it was still an honor. Sira was brought back to the elevator into a hug from the fellow worker, before it soon turned into a group hug as the miners continued to reach around Sira, one last embrace. They chanted the song of the canary again.

MINERS

Take hand and remember what you hold most dear

The Canary and her dying song make take away what's dear

Old or young or dead

The mine won't think ahead.

SIRA

Hold me, I hear the Canary's Fall

The song will play no more

A toxic cloud does haunt these halls

Go see your families I implore

They continued to sing as Sira stepped out again, finally breaking the embrace. He closed the iron gating door, and pulled the lever, a song of loss, of mourning, a song of partnership. The elevator goes up and out of view. Sira watched it go up, then sat down by the door. He took out his family photograph, and watched it as he slowly lost his breath, crying as he nears his last breath.

SIRA

I hear you Canary Song,

So, let my music die…

Regardless if I've done you wrong

I know I need your cry

MINERS

Farewell Canary Song

The end has come to last

Ghosts of stone seal my fate

As the inevitable comes to pass…

Hours later, workers wearing white gas masks came down from a light above on cables and ropes, and reach for Sira to shake him, only for him to fall back limp with the photograph still in hand. They took him by the hand and prepare to carry him above. The light consumed everything, until it fades into lightning over a grave.

A week later, Tom and Dana looked over a gravestone titled, "Sira Bawcock, beloved father and husband 1876-1926."

Dana set down two flowers while her son towers over her, holding her close. Rain poured down upon them. Her woolen coat was soaked, and her mittens mopped up tears and rain alike. Tom wore a collared shirt with a black tie that went down to the middle of his black jacket. Both wore wellies to trudge through the rain and mud. After much sobbing, Tom emotionlessly pulled Dana away, pulling her down the path towards the church over the village.


	4. Chapter 3

The Bawcock Household

Dana struggled to wash dishes because of her stammering and crying. Young Tom delicately took the dishes from her, and began to scrub them himself. Dana backed away then sat down at the dining table in the other room. Tom hardly fit into the low ceiling anymore, but Dana almost looks tall. These older houses had been renovated, but they still were smaller. The tiles along the kitchen led up to a small icebox, on top of which, was a nearly empty jug of milk, followed by several square tins of oats that made the entryway for a yard outside.

For the first time in a long time, Tom recognized Dana as an individual separate from the title of 'Mom'. She was short with hair tied into a ball over her face so it didn't get in the way. Her freckles were genetic and passed on to Tom, but they were hardly visible on him. Dana wore her work uniform, a green grocer outfit with short sleeves and a long white apron.

"Tom, it's ok." Dana tried to reach out to him again. Or perhaps it was self-reassurance. Tom is quiet, and continues scrubbing the dishes, glazed to each morsel and bit of black pudding. Dana continues and adds, "Tom…you haven't said anything in two weeks"

Tom still washed the dishes

"It's ok to say something Tom."

Tom persisted. As did Dana. A pin could drop at any second and it would be heard.

"Say something…please."

Tom put the dish down carefully, then turned to the door where a flap of mail. He went to pick it up. Stamped onto the envelope was 'Important Notice'. Dana watched it from the kitchen table and insisted, "That must be the funeral fees. Give them here."

Tom obliged and handed them over to Dana. She pinches them into her hands, then plucks some reading glasses out of the breast pocket of her work shirt. She looked worried, but quickly stops herself as she remembers Tom. She faked a smile, her eye fluttering with worry.

"Why don't you sit down? Then will you talk?" She asks, her eyes earnest with someone to say something that actually mattered and not the needless prattle from her friends at work.

The young adult sat down beside Dana and looked at her, expecting a long lengthy explanation about how things weren't so bad, and how things will get better. Dana turned to face him and held her face in her hands, wiping gunk out of her eyes and balling it up before tossing it away under her glasses. She took a short breath then looked at Tom and asked, "What would you like to do Tom? Do you want to go feed the birds? Snail racing?"

She chuckled with a croak and added, "Probably not play in the snow."

Tom was unresponsive. He just looked down at the table, rubbing his thumb across a spoon. Dana stared at him, then pushed herself out from the table to walk over to a kitchen drawer. She pulled out the drawers of similar letters with similar notices. As she added the letter in with the rest, she finally got a request.

"I'd like to hike around the coast. A lot of my friends left to do it. I'd like to do the same." Tom asked. He fidgeted in his chair. He pressed harder against the spoon, clearly nervous about asking the question and being caught in the lie. Dana sniffled, but nodded slowly, flinching for a moment before deciding, "Yeah. Sure. That's fine"

Tom seemed less worried, but still was a bit on edge.

"Really?" He asked once more. Dana nodded again and wiped her nose with a handkerchief. She looked down at it, then folded it and held it close. It didn't match her shirt or her dress, so it clearly wasn't hers. Dana replied, "Yes. If that will make you happy."

Tom got up from his chair and went over to her. Dana turned around to see him, looking up at the young man.

"Mum…" Tom pressed further. He reached for her hand and held it. Dana held him tightly and swallowed, "I want you to be happy. And if going around the seaboard does that, then I'll support your decision."

"Mum, what about you being happy?"

Dana picked up his hand and held it closer to her and answered, "If you're happy, I'm happy."

A moment of silence went between the two, then Dana embraced her son, holding him tightly and looking over his shoulder. As she looked over him, she told herself aloud, "This is something you need to do. And I won't stop you. I'll support whatever you decide to do. Whoever you decide to be."

She pulled back from Tom, then clarified, "Just don't do something stupid."

Tom rolled his eyes at his mom then shook his head with a hefty groan, "Ok mum!"

"No smoking! You know how I feel about that." Dana snapped.

"I know Mum!"

"I'm serious Tom!"

"I know!"

"Ok."

She looked at him with a sad smile and hugged him, squeezing him tightly. She spoke into his coat. "You're going to be ok for a few months, right?"

"Will you?" Tom asked. Dana looked out over the rest of the house, but she was lost in thought. Thinking about what could happen.

"Yeah. Just be safe, alright?" she asked, closing her eyes in anticipation of the answer. Tom agreed, "Alright"

She finally let go of Tom and looked at him, then hugged him again.

"One more. I'll trap you here by never letting you go." She chuckled a little while Tom groaned, before she let go of him again with a pat on the back and telling him, "Ok. Go upstairs and get your things"

He went to his right, through the living room, his footsteps clunking as he thumped his way upstairs to his room. Dana looked down at the handkerchief still in her hand.

Tom's childhood room had a lower ceiling and like many rooms, was filled with books and little wooden models of things, including a dragon. Most of these items were tossed aside as he prepared to go out into the world. Tom sorted through his clothes, sweaters and the like. A few undershirts and some long baggy pants to deal with the cold rain that was soon to follow him. He took a red scarf and looped it around his neck. He would end up keeping it there for a while.

When he went downstairs he was wearing his blue woolen jacket with his big black buttons, his scarf 'round his neck and his black flat cap over his curly brown hair. Dana turned to look at him and the backpack on his back. She held the handkerchief in her hands and looked at him, then the handkerchief.

"It's not right for a young man to go without a handkerchief. This is your father's. I want you to take it." Dana offered it to him. Tom looked at the rag and scoffed. "I'd rather not have a snot rag"

"Thomas Bowcock, you will take this 'snot rag'. I won't let you leave this house without remembering your father" Dana demanded with a harsh tone. Tom took the handkerchief and looked at it in his hand. The stupid red plaid thing could go be forgotten for all he cared. He never wanted to see it again, let alone mention it.

"Could I at least wash it first?" Tom dramatically sighed. Dana looked annoyed by the question, but permitted it. She mumbled as she said, "Yes, you may go wash it. Dry it in the machine, not the clothesline. I don't want to risk it getting messy."

Tom went back upstairs with the handkerchief and a deadpanned expression. His mother was out of view when he replied, "Yes, God forbid a handkerchief get messy"

From downstairs she called back, "Don't give me that sass young man. Take that with you please."

Another week passed and it was time for Tom to go. Dana looked out from the garden stone walls out onto the path through town. She turned around when her son opened the house door behind her and came down the path, a now clean handkerchief slipped beneath his coat. Dana opened her mouth to ask, but Tom had already opened one side of the jacket to show her he had the handkerchief readily available. She nodded in agreement, then waited for him to come closer.

Tom stopped in front of Dana, and he reached around her with those long arms of his. She returned the favor, pressing up against him. With a mother's last request, she insisted, "Kiss."

Tom bent down so Dana could kiss him on the cheek. She kissed him, then grimaced at the beard hair that was growing, "You need to see a barber"

Tom had clearly heard this many times, as he rolled his eyes and groaned, "Yes Mum…"

"I'm serious. If you come across a barber along the path, you better get a shave"

"Yes Mum."

Dana hugged him again and got teary-eyed. "You know I love you very much, right?"

"Yes." Tom admitted.

"You know you smell, right?"

"Mum!"

Dana smiled and held him tighter, as she sang.

DANA

I remember when I first met you

You were the most beautiful thing I'd seen

I used to think you'd be my baby

Even now, if you know what I mean

From the moment, you were a part of my life

I thought you were amazing

You'd stumble and fall and have your strife

But you were always my little baby

I watched you grow with a careful eye

Turn into a gorgeous butterfly

Thinking you could stay here, maybe

But someday you know

I have to let go

So, I'll let you free my baby

Tom opened the gate to the garden, then walked out onto the path, carrying the massive bag over his shoulders. He looked back at her and waved goodbye, for now at least. Dana wept and waved at him as he stood there.

DANA

You're not perfect

Not in a conventional way

You make mistakes and there's not always a happy day

But someday you'll see,

You're still going to be my baby

And now that you're grown.

I'm still not alone

And I don't need someone to save me

Life will be rough,

But I will always love

My Baby

He turned and went back down the path, the houses around him fading as he left the village. The world around him began to lose signs of civilization as he went out onto the rolling hills of the countryside.

As the dawn fell across the sky, Tom kept walking, and made the decision that he might postpone shaving for later.


	5. Chapter 4

Coastline

Tom went down a large set of rocks along the coast, coated in holes as waters crashes against them, dragging sand back into the big blue mass. The ocean spread endlessly, while a gull flew above. A lighthouse up ahead shined through the fog of the coastline, the beach hardly visible through the mist. Moss slipped and reached along the rocks up to the lighthouse as it eats up towards the dock. On the windowsill was a fish dangling from a hook, which TOM objectively chose to ignore.

Sim peeked her black and white ears over the top of the windowsill. She stealthily stuck her big green eyes over the edge over at the fish. They darted left and right, checking for anyone watching the delicious prize. Sim slowly crept up the window until finally she reached for the fish with her paw and prepared to snatch it.

Nabma leapt onto the windowsill and began barking at Sim, who scrambled wildly and fell backwards off the window onto the dock below, flailing about on the ground before running randomly to the rocks along the shore. She sat beneath one of the larger rocks, breathing heavily, her scrawniness ready to hyperventilate. After much deliberation, Sim took a deep breath. When she looked up after the breath, she caught the sight of her meal ticket, the blissfully unaware Tom Bawcock. She smiled mischievously, then crept towards the path.

Tom continued along his merry way, only to bump up against something. He looked down to see Sim lying right in the most inconvenient spot possible, blocking his way. Sim regarded Tom and flashed a set of beautiful eyes his way, mewing loudly. The agony in her purr was to kill for, making it impossible to anyone to truly comprehend what sadness had befallen her. Tom wasn't having any of it, and rolled his eyes at the feline drama queen. He moved to the left to try and move around the cat, but Sim stretched further, blocking the left side.

This didn't stop Tom, as he tried to go right around the cat, but Sim flicked her tail to the right, completely blocking off the young man's path. He let out a hefty sigh, not amused by the cat's shenanigans. He cringed and winced as he tried to lift his foot up and over the cat, moving on tip toes to the other side of the animal. The last step staggered him, and he nearly fell over, and for an instant he was mortified at the thought of touching or disturbing the animal. However, as soon as he passed it, and he turned back to where the cat lay, and it was already gone.

Tom breathed a sigh of relief and continued along his path. On his way, he passed the lighthouse and Nerville, who was accompanied by his dog, Nabma. He sat there petting the dog, who waited patiently by his side until she caught sight of Tom. Nabma leapt up and tried to run up to Tom and give him a good sniffing. Nerville held the dog back, but ended up being dragged over to Tom himself by the big dog. He called out apologetically and Nabma investigated the hiker thoroughly, sniffing him down without asking.

"Terribly sorry young chap! She does get quite excited you know!" Nerville apologized. He wore a brown thin coat with a grey-green shirt beneath a tan scarf. Tom looked at the dog a little confused, but delicately reassured Nerville, "No, it's alright. Animals just seem very interested in me today. Is she ok to pet?"

Nerville nodded and smiled, his wrinkles creasing into dimples. He cleared his throat, "Oh! Yes! Go ahead. You headed up to Land's End?"

"Yes, I suppose so. I'm taking the walk around the coast." Tom had to think about the comment for a second. Nerville on the other hand took no time at all to respond, "Ah! Been seeing a lot of young folk out here doing that. Sure, you don't get lonely out here by yourself?"

"Nah. It's alright. It gives me time to think." Tom was rather happy to be alone for once, and not have to deal with anyone. Tom pet the dog eagerly, playing with her ears happily. Nerville approved then looked back once he heard scratching coming from his lighthouse.

"Hey!"

Sim was carrying the fish from the windowsill in her mouth, and looked in surprise at Nerville, hoping that Tom had been a bit more distracting.

"Your cat's eating my catch!" Nerville shouted at Tom, then turned back to the cat. Tom slowed his understanding and asked, "My…cat?

Tom looked up from the dog to see Sim dragging the fish over to him. Nerville pulled Nabma back to stop her from chasing after the cat.

"This isn't my cat!" Tom gawked, looking to Nerville and Sim. Nerville cocked his head and leered, "Oh really? It seems to think so!"

Tom looked down at his feet where Sim brushed up against him, flouncing those big doe eyes about. Tom was still trying to rack his brain around the situation, "I've never seen this cat in my life!"

"I won't take that rubbish! That fish cost a thruppence it did!" Nerville scolded, struggling to keep Nabma back.

Tom looked aghast, and gaped at the price. He didn't have much to his name, and hadn't left with nearly enough. However, he caved in nonetheless. "Thruppence… Ok…whatever! Fine!"

"Thruppence and five shillings." Nerville bargained, keeping back a cunning smile. Tom rolled his eyes then complied, "Whatever"

He forked over the money from his wallet and gave it to the criminal. It was now Tom decided to become a dog person. Nerville angrily stormed away from him, going back into the lighthouse, pulling Nabma along with him. Tom looked down to see if Sim was still there, only to discover the cat had vanished from view. Tom was aggravated, annoyed, and he didn't want anything else to do with this situation. He began to walk away, stomping along the clear path when he heard laughter coming back from the lighthouse. He squinted into the open window of the lighthouse, to see Nerville carrying around Sim.

"Ha-ha! I knew I should keep you around you mangy thing!" Nerville put down a can of fish for Sim on the table. Nerville looked outside to see Tom watching him and turned pale. He ran to the door and tossed Sim out, slamming the door behind the cat as she left. Sim looked stunned. After all the cons, she went through for this ungrateful man, only to tossed away like an old fish head.

Sim turned back to the road ahead, still annoyed he had been cheated, but a little grateful that little troublemaker got her due. It wasn't long until that same troublemaker rand up to him and began to block his way again. Sim sat directly in his path, looking up at him in anticipation.

"No. Absolutely not. I've had enough of you." Tom stood his ground and tried to assert himself as the master. Sim licked her left paw and then brushed it across her head. She ate shmuck like Tom for breakfast.

"Go! Go away!" Tom waved his hand at her. Sim gracefully strolled over to Tom's leg and brushed up against it, purring loudly. He watched the cat, then took a heavy sigh.

"You know you're a huge jerk, right?" Tom asked. Sim looked up at him with her doe eyes almost to say she absolutely knew she was a manipulative jerk, but she was going to follow him anyway.

"Fine then. Come along." Tom groaned and stepped forward with his hands in his pockets. Sim was satisfied, and moved by Tom's right side, following behind as he kept going down the path towards Land's End, and the seaside towns to come.


	6. Chapter 5

The Woods

Tom was slowly accumulating a beard as he climbed along the moss and grassy haggles and crests in the rock, but the leaves still fell nonetheless, and the snails still fell down and slid along the branches. Tom took a second to admire the view, and sat down to pet Sim, who he had decided to try to reach out to over the last week. Mostly because she made good conversation. He rested his arms on his knees.

"Isn't it lovely?" Tom asked the cat. Sim smiled and accepted the pet, knowing of course Tom was talking about her, and nothing else could be lovely in the world. She accepted the petting for a second, the turned upwards and gave Tom a love bite. Although it was intended to be a love bite, it didn't feel like one, and Tom winced in pain.

"I can't tell if you love me or hate me" Tom gasped, eying the feline. Sim was in-between feelings at all points in time. Tom laid down on the grass. The moss of the forest was the only pillow he's had for the last few weeks. He inhaled through his nostrils and breathed outward with his mouth, the smell of the woods like a river through a dam. He sneezed suddenly, then took out his handkerchief from his breast pocket. He wiped his nose then sniffed. As he was about to put the handkerchief back in his pocket, he watched it flutter in his hand, and he held it out, wondering if it was time to let go.

TOM

Have you ever thought

Something was nothing?

Have you ever dreamt?

That it all made sense.

Dew dripped down from the leaves and branches onto pools down below, echoing the quivering ripples of light strings. Snails looked out from their shells lie bagpipes, humming the tune in piped chorus. Every so often, the rainwater would fall down ahead of them and land on their head, scaring them back inside with a frightened low tone.

The handkerchief fluttered more, fading into the sails of a boat, going along a sunny harbor. A young Tom, aged twelve, held onto the mast, watching the sea ahead. Sira silently calls to him from the ship's wheel and Dana helps him down from the mast, smiling as she looked over at the two. Sira points out from the wheel with two fingers and gives Young Tom a compass. The boy takes it, and Sira holds him tightly.

TOM, aged 20(voiceover)

There's a whole wide world out there

Waiting to be seen

There's a whole wide world out where

It's something out a dream!

Dana holds Tom's hands as he fishes on the side of the boat, pointing out the different parts. Sira overlooks them, looking proudly over the sea and steering the ship across the channel. Sira's gaze is veered towards the harbor, where a man in a black suit stands watching them.

YOUNG TOM

There's a whole wide world out there!

Glimmering beneath the stars

Under a veil of love and care

Just on the tip of Mars

Sira and Dana point up at the stars side by side with young Tom, laying atop the boat up at the stars. Sira once again looks at the harbor to see the man in black, this time with a horse drawn hearse with a pale horse. The man in black looks to Sira and extends his arm outwards to call him in. As the vision fades, so too does Sira

ADULT TOM

That world I know is just out of my reach

But still forever gone

Whatever spirit or otherwise is there I beseech

To let me carry on

Adult Tom holds up the handkerchief in the wind and prepares to let go, but can't bring himself to do it.

ADULT TOM

I know that wide world is out there!

I know he heard the Canary's Song!

But if I cannot find that somewhere!

At least let me afford to be wrong!

He let go of the handkerchief for a second, but it fell back in his face. Tom immediately tore it away and clutched it in both hands. He lay back and held the handkerchief away so he didn't have to look at it.

ADULT TOM

The whole wide world is waiting for me

I don't know where or how

Look closely you'll see what I mean!

But some final words before I go!

Sim walked up and sat on his lap, her tail swishing back and forth as she looked him in the eye. Tom sighed and watched the woods hum and drum like a melody. Tom looked to Sim and asked,

TOM

Do you think he knew the risk?

Do you think he knew what was best?

Did he think that this…

Was what's best?

Then where am I then?

Gazing into the trees.

Watching the forgotten hymm

As the sight of him leaves?

Rain began to fall. Tom closed his eyes, and Sim moved from his chest to his armpit, taking shelter in the warmth of the man and the coat.

TOM

Do you see something in me?

Some potential that I can't?

Or is it just shelter?

Admidst the falling sea?

Can I see that potential in myself?

If nobody else

Will come to me in my aid?

But…I'm afraid

The woods turned from green and lively to grey and stormy, but Tom ignored the rain.

TOM

What if I fail?

The whole wide world is against me?

If I don't prevail,

Will the whole wide world resent me?

Sim peeked one eye out in the rain and looked at him. Clearly the human needed a pick me up, and she wasn't going anywhere unless she did it. Sim rolled her eyed and got up lazily to turn around to Tom. She put her head by the man's beard and began to purr like a fluffy love heater.

TOM

That's the trick isn't it?

It doesn't matter if I fail.

You'd still love me,

Even if I don't prevail.

The world may be big and wide,

But the little things in it are more than enough

That warm inside

Cannot hide

And if you believe in me,

Then I am forever free…

The rain began to clear up as soon as it came. The snails came back out of their shells and flowers bloomed brighter than ever. Tom extended his arm and rested it on Sim. Sim was surprised and prepared to bite Tom, but slowly turned back to go back to sleep. Tom looked at Sim then closed his eyes, and fell asleep in the grass amongst the snails and the leaves.


	7. Chapter 6

Land's End

The cliffside was a long line of path leading down a dark edge. Tom came upon a fallen tree and sat on the log as dead leaves flew past him, blowing in the wind. They flew away in the wind and dove down into the waves to another scene where Tom's beard was thicker as he walked along another cliff. He closed his eyes as he kept walking, so lost in his thought he wasn't looking where he was going.

As he prepared to take a step, Wenna tackled him, pushing him away from the cliffside. As Tom panicked, Wenna put her hand on his mouth to silence him. It was difficult to tell what she was wearing since it all happened so fast, but she helped him to his feet, holding him back with both arms without much difficulty since she was about a head above him.

"Ok buddy! Calm down! Deep breaths! Deep breaths!" Wenna tried to hold him stable. Tom breathed heavily very quickly, nearly delving into hyperventilation, but he eventually relaxed and Wenna released him. Much like him, she also was heavily coated and carried a large backpack on her back. Unlike him, she was tall and bulky, and not scrawny. Her hair was tied up out of her face, but a few locks escaped the coil's grasp.

"Alright? You good?" Wenna asked, holding one arm within his reach just in case. TOM was too stunned to speak, he just stood there and tried not to hyperventilate. Wenna took a breath then added, "You need to watch where you're going mate!"

"…What?" Tom asked in a heartbeat. Wenna shook her head then helped him up to show him the giant hole in the path that Tom nearly stepped into. He would have skidded and fallen into the water below, not a pretty sight.

"Uh…" Tom desperately tried to rack his brain around what just happened.

"Watch your step. 'K?" Wenna suggested. She let go and began to hike back down the rolling hills down the coast. Tom watched her leave, a little shocked. He slumped down to the ground. Sim stepped beside him and nuzzled his leg, but still bit Tom when he went down to pet her. Regardless, Tom continued to focus on the sunlight coming through, trying to understand who and what just happened. Gradually he began to understand it.

"Oui!" Wenna called to him from afar. Tom turned back to see Wenna still standing there, playing with Sim. She stood back up promptly and shouted back to him, "I'm not leaving you out here! Come along! There are other places for spontaneous musical numbers. Unless you want your chorus to be a load of seals."

Tom cleared his throat, then followed behind Wenna, trying to make it seem like he didn't nearly cause death by dumb-dumb.

"Ah yes, we should get going." Tom faked a deeper tone in his voice to sound manly instead what he actually was which was a clutz. Wenna didn't believe it was his real voice, but she tried to think of conversation besides what just happened, so she turned to TOM as they walked and asked, "What's your name, sailor?"

Tom sputtered at first, then spoke once again with the same fake deep voice, "Tom, Tom Bawcock"

"You taking the hike around the coast, Tom? Go from town to town?" Wenna asked. The question caught Tom off guard but what didn't catch him off guard was beyond fathomable, "Yeah, the same for you I imagine?"

"Yeah. Just a short ways though. Never gone all the way around. But I'll be home soon. Over in Mousehole. How about we head there, maybe grab a pint, and you can relax?" Wenna suggested. This guy was out on his own in the middle of nowhere. He'd probably start taking to snails if he went on like this. Tom reluctantly agreed, "Sure…"

Tom was a little hesitant to go hang out with some woman he just met, but at the same time he hadn't really talked to anyone in a long time. He hadn't had much company for a while, aside from his cat and his thoughts. That being said, there was nothing implying that he couldn't talk to someone. Unfortunately, Tom ended up getting so caught up in thought that he didn't realize where he was walking, and ended up going right into a tree.

Wenna watched him and snorted when he ended up having difficulty recovering. She caught his arm before he could hurt himself further and pulled him out of harm's way, both stopping in their tracks.

"You have got to watch yourself, Tom. May I recommend not looking down when you walk?" Wenna recommended to the bumbling buffoon. She delicately pushed his chin up so he could see the hills and sun ahead, with farms on the right, and a massive ocean on the left. Tom anxiously replied, "Oh right!"

"Eyes on me." Wenna instructed and tried to lead Tom away from the trees back onto the path not littered with sharp rocks and pain. Tom looked at her, following these instructions and watching her steps.

After a short walk, Wenna finished with, "Good."

They continued back down the path, Wenna releasing Tom from her grasp. Tom was hit with a sudden realization, "Wait! I don't know your name!"

Wenna extended her hand and grinned, "My name is Wenna. It's nice to meet you Tom. And who is your friend?"

Tom hadn't the foggiest idea who she was talking about at first but then it hit him that Sim was still following behind them. Albeit, stopping to occasionally leap up at a moth.

"Oh! The cat! Mortimer! His name is Mortimer!" Tom decided on the spot. Wenna looked at him like he was stupid then cleared her throat and explained, "One. Mortimer is a stupid name for any animal, Two, you know she's a girl, right?"

Tom looked at Sim in surprise, having not been aware of that in the slightest. Sim looked back at Tom like he was an inferior species.

"You never checked?" Wenna asked, trying to understand this guy. Tom chuckled at his own joke and said, "I'd like to believe that my cat is not defined by gender roles"

"She's a cat." Wenna remarked at what was already a dated joke. Unfortunately, Tom followed it up with another one, "But she's a strong independent cat who doesn't need a man"

"You just called her a she!" Wenna smiled, her iron will determination to not laugh at silliness breaking.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tom finished his concerto of bad jokes and amusement. Both were laughing now as the rising sun lit their way ahead, enlightening the small village of Mousehole in the distance. I can't guarantee that Wenna was laughing nearly as hard as Tom, but Tom was very satisfied with his impressive work.

"Well she does seem to be a little bit of a monkey." Wenna watched Sim and laughed as the cat pounced onto a butterfly, only to lose it instantly. Tom smiled sadly, but maintained composure and decided, "Sim it is then!"

"Sim?"

"It's Cornish. For monkey."

"Why would they need a Cornish word for monkey?"

"I don't know but it's the one thing I remember from that class." Tom rambled on. As they walked further on, a rock behind them lit up with a glowing lime Celtic green symbol, unaware to the two travelers.


	8. Chapter 7

Enter Mousehole

Wenna led Tom down the path towards Mousehole. The little village was built around a giant wall facing the side, where boats came in and out constantly, and fisherman exchanged nets of fish. The small town's buildings all climbed up behind a harbor in the center where townsfolk walked to and fro the little bakery and the fish markets. Sim seemed particularly interested in the fish market for no reason other than she could probably sneak a peek at some of the fish. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't the only cat who had this idea, and many other cats were lining the streets, heeding the smell of the fish like furry moths to a putrid flame.

WENNA

Welcome to the town where everything revolves around the harbor

She walked past one of the market stalls and bought a small pie wrapped in a bow, then tossed it to Tom, who fumbled with the hot pie for a second before holding the small pie in both hands.

WENNA

Welcome to a place where we build our lives on the sea

Heaven knows it isn't much be we got each other

And that's the happiest us small towns can be

As she led Tom through the village, they passed a fishmonger selling his wares, who immediately eyed Tom and held up a large fish that was bigger than he was.

WENNA

Drop on by the old fishmonger…

The sailor rather unexpectedly interluded, much to Wenna's surprise.

FISHMONGER

A shilling for a fish, but a kiss is free

He puckered up his grotesque lips to Wenna and closed his eyes. She backed away and gave an annoyed look.

WENNA

There's many a mug living here on the harbor…

And some of those mugs happen to have lost their sanity.

She casually undid a little knob by the side of the market stall, making the storefront collapse and swing back into the fishmonger's face, essentially closing him into the box. The Townspeople opened more market stalls and stores etched into the buildings to wave to Wenna and the newcomer.

TOWNSFOLK

Oh Mousehole! Long live Mousehole!

How I long for the town by the sea!

Oh Mousehole! Long live Mousehole!

Because home is the place for me!

Wenna dropped by a larger bakery where a chef in a rather goofy hat was busy preparing a pie in the window, where several children, bundled up warm in the cold were watching him shape the pastry. The chef ignored the children, instead focusing on his craft, while the manager attended anyone looking to make a purchase.

WENNA

Our little town is known for its pie craft…

She bent her knees and examined one of the little Christmas pies in a display case, then looked back at Tom, who had already eaten the small mince pie he had been handed. He gave her a confused look, since he was so invested in his pie he hadn't really been listening. However, as soon as he saw that there were more pies, he was suddenly listening intently.

WENNA

You know, they've got no parallel

She gave him a smug look and he nodded intently, brushing off the top of his coat and waiting patiently for his treat. Instead she nonchalantly stood up and took a small pie from the shopkeeper and kept it in her hand for herself.

WENNA

But we really mustn't act like we are nigh daft.

He followed her almost sadly as she ate the little pie right in front of him. That is until she reminded him about other pies.

WENNA

But, of course there's always more the baker sells.

The pair continued down the street and Wenna went down a set of stairs, holding onto a railing as she continued around the epicenter of the village. A few men working the boats in the harbor spotted them and commented on the occasion.

"You know the keeper's daughter is quite the deary." Ben commented, gazing from afar and contemplating the sight. Another peeked up to get a closer view after being below the deck.

EDMUND

I hear she once hauled ashore a shark

Craig, the shortest of the trio, interluded so their heads went downward in descending order.

CRAIG

I'd never have a day gray nor bleary

ALL THREE

If I had someone with whom had my heart.

While the music continued in the background, Edmund turned to Ben and sent a backwards thumb over to Craig, pointing out, "I thought Craig and I had yer heart."

Meanwhile, Wenna went around another street with the sea at her back, while the townsfolk continued about their way, drying laundry and sheets on strings alongside fish.

TOWNSPEOPLE

Oh Mousehole! Long live Mousehole!

The rich may think we've got nothin'

Oh Mousehole! Long live Mousehole!

We got each other and that's somethin'!

Wenna opened the door for Tom with a light smile at the entrance for The Dynnargh Monarch while the townspeople finished their chorus.

TOWNSPEOPLE

Long live Mousehole!

The village we call home by the sea!


	9. Chapter 8

The Dynnargh Matriarch

Wenna led Tom through the pub, which, not the least to Wenna's surprise, Tom agreed. The bar was a medium sized room where sailors chatted and loved their wives and husbands. A few were flirting with the common-folk, however old or young. Quite a few were playing with their kids. The bar hadn't become a tavern but more of a gathering place, the one time sailors could meet with their families after an eternity at sea. Tom knew the feeling, and as he looked at one sailor playing with his son, he felt a familiar feeling. The hope someone would come home. Then he remembered that someone wasn't coming home again. There was no someone anymore, nor a home to go back to. It didn't feel like a home anymore. It may not even still be there.

Wenna pulled up a barstool for Tom and sat down herself in front of the bar. TOm obliged, but not before wiping the stool off with his handkerchief. Wenna called for two drinks from the bartender, but couldn't help but notice Tom was invested in the families around him.

Tom took his father's handkerchief and held it in one hand, ready to throw it away. If he left it here, it would go to someone else who probably found it in lost and found. He dropped it to the ground then spun around to the bar so he didn't have to look at it. It wasn't long before one of those sailors' daughters went up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sir, you dropped this." She said, and offered the handkerchief back to him. Tom didn't want to be rude, and he spotted her father in the corner urging the child to be polite and offer it to him. He grimaced but put up a fake smile and hacked, "Thank you Miss."

The little girl smiled and returned to her father, who smiled to her and congratulated her, then waved happily to Tom. Tom nervously turned around and sunk his head downward towards the counter in despair. Wenna slapped Tom on the back and snapped him out of it.

"Hey! We came here for a pint and a sit down!" She amended his anxious behavior. Tom adjusted himself and replied, "Right! Sorry! Sorry!"

Tom turned to Wenna, who shoved a drink on a towards him. Meanwhile she stirred her own drink around, her eyes glazing into the pool. Wenna instilled some of her own rules into Tom, "If someone buys you a drink, the very least you could do is listen. Could be all about toothpicks and the history of towels, but you listen."

She took a sip, then landed the thick glass onto the bar once again. She sighed then watched as his gaze reverted back to the families. Wenna cleared her throat then explained, "If you're so interested. The fisherman go out, days, weeks at a time. Come home for about a day or so, then leave. They try to make whatever moments they get with their families and friends count. Never know if it's their last. Back home for Christmas though."

Wenna acted like it was nothing, like Tom wasn't the only one who was sick of the story. She looked Tom up and down as he struggled to realize, "It's December?"

"Don't you own a calendar?" Wenna was a little dumbfounded, but after a little consideration, she realized she was a little insensitive. Then again, so was Tom sometimes. Regardless, Tom admitted, "I haven't really kept track of the time."

"Then yeah, only a few weeks until Christmas. They'll be putting up candles soon." Wenna clarified. She took another sip then pointed back at where some townsfolk were lighting candles in the windows. She leered at him and asked, "What's your story? You look like you aren't all there."

Tom grimaced and slowly took a sip of his pint, then held it in his left hand. "My father was a miner. He died a few months ago."

"And yer mum?" Wenna was more intrigued than heartbroken. Tom tried to recall, then went with what he remembered, "Last, I saw her, she was working in a grocer back home. I left a month or so after dad died."

Wenna took another drink, then held back a burp and explained, "Well, Tom, my father is a lighthouse keeper. Used to fish, but he isn't in any condition to do that since the Great War. Me mum and I care for 'im best we can. She works up at the cannery."

"And you?" Tom made small talk. Wenna obliged, "Boat worker. Make sure none of these folks crash into a billion pieces coming back through the Mouse hole."

Tom frowned at that then looked back outside for a second out at the giant wall in the harbor, interrupted only by a mouse hole shaped exit and entryway for ships heading into the ocean. He cleared his throat then commented, "Yeah, I meant to ask about that."

"Getting out of the Mousehole is the easy part. Getting back in is the hard part, whole sea wants to wipe your boat against the wall. That's where I come in, making sure these guys are at the very least, a little less likely to end up at the bottom of the ocean." Wenna casually sipped her drink then realized how horrified Tom must have been. She cleared her throat then tried to lighten the mood with a different subject. "You ever fished, Tom? Using a net out on the ocean?"

Tom was still looking out at the Mousehole but he eventually turned back to her and answered the question, "My Dad taught me how to sail in the few chances we saw him, but I've never fished."

Wenna slugged Tom on the shoulder and found an easy solution, "No problem! My dad can teach you. I was never interested in fishing myself and he'd probably love to teach you."

"You never wanted to sail?" Tom asked. It seemed like everyone in town either fished or sailed. Wenna admitted, "Rather make the boats than break them. Allows me to innovate."

"You ever make your own boats or do you just repair?" Tom asked. Wenna shrugged, "Mostly repair, but I've got a side project you and Sim can check out if you'd like."

Tom looked confused then frantic, looking to his side for the cat. He thought she had come in, but now there was a serious lack of cat. He let out a light panic, "Sim! I completely forgot about her!"

He stepped off the stool and bent down on his knees to see if he could see the familiar face of a certain pussycat. Through the crowds and boots of sailors and workers he could see the white feet of a black cat sniffing through the crowd, following the eager scent of fish and pies.

"Sim! Come back here kitty!" Tom called out. He attempted to crawl through to the cat, but unfortunately bumped into Jacob, spilling Jacob's drink onto his coat. Jacob looked down at the spill, surprised and caught off guard. Tom stood up and freaked out, trying to wipe it off Jacob's coat. Jacob was a clean shaven man with long shoulders and a permanent toothy grin. He didn't even seem frustrated with Tom.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!" Tom tried to wipe it down. Jacob reassured him as he helped clean it up, "It's ok, it's ok. Accidents happen."

All the while Tom continued to keep apologizing.

"I'm sorry! I was looking for my cat. I wasn't looking where I was going! I'm so sorry!"

"Calm down mate. It's just a spill. Hey…" Jacob slowly pieced something together. He pointed at Tom and smiled, "You're new to town, aren't you?"

Tom fearfully nodded, not aware that Jacob had no intention of hurting him. Jacob waved to Wenna, who laughed at the pair, shaking her head. She noted, "I see you've met Jacob"

Jacob hugged Tom and patted him on the back before turning him to everyone else and called out, "Everyone, we have a newcomer in town. What's your name chum?"

Tom took in a lot at once, his eyes darting to either side of the room in a strange mixture of confusion and uncertainty. He stammered and answered, "Um…Tom? Tom Bawcock?"

"Hey Tom, I'm Jacob. Welcome to Mousehole, Tom Bawcock. Everyone!" Jacob introduced him and raised his pint in the air. All the sailors in the bar did the same.

"A toast! To Tom Bowcock!" Jacob decided. Everyone burst out at once happily, inviting Tom into a hope of a home he once had. His doubts seemed to vanish when he wasn't only greeted but met with praise for coming here. In a day, he had felt the worst feeling in his life, and the best feeling in his life. The whole wide world was opening for him, giving him the home he had so long ago. The family he needed from this little town was in his sights. A toast was raised and so was the town's voices, "To Tom Bowcock! Cheers!"


	10. Chapter 9

The Stone Circle

Hepkor stood in a stone, engraved, circle, mist all around him as he stood over a center stone. He was a hooded man in a white cloak with green and gold etchings into the borders. A mink scarf was coiled around his neck. He bent down at the stone and set his hand down on the rock. Immediately moss grew from his touch, which then sprouted thorns up from the earth below. The thorns then climbed up to his hand. He crushed the thorns in his hand, and winced in pain as a drop of blood fell from his uncovered hand to the stone. Flowers sprouted in a bright green rapidly.

Hepkor bent down and looked at the flowers and removed his hood revealing a balding man with a long grey beard. The flowers whistled in the wind like a set of pipes.

HEPKOR

Tell me what you see,

Little life of mine.

Tell me of their tiny little harbored lives

Tell me more about the voices

Tell me their honest lies

And tell me of their choices…

Hepkor stepped back from the flower and lamented, looking out at the stone pillars and boulders.

HEPKOR

Tell me those who do beware

My icy cold and heartless stare

Down there

Where

Mortals hide.

The flower's petals began to fly on the wind, swirling round and round and glimmering as voices spread through the wind.

SPIRITS

Humanity lives in peace and sleep

Though men do leave and families weep

To find the vastness of the sea

That is what I see.

Hepkor stood up to follow the light around.

HEPKOR

Yes, so you say

They have no burdens

That way

Left to bear

Left to distain

You say they don't feel hurt then?

Why can't I be the same?

SPIRITS

Every year

They leave you here

Forgotten, in the dust

A shrouded old monster, left here to rust

HEPKOR

And that's precisely

Why I'd nicely

Barge in and ask them

Not rudely, just task them

For a piece of the action.

Instead of being abandoned again.

Hepkor put his hand on the stone and the petals formed a vison of him walking through town and kindly waving to people.

HEPKOR

To celebrate a night,

Hold it tight

And never gave it cause

Or pause

To remember

Who gave them a December.

Who gave their lives a reason to be together?

Through all the cold nights

Through all the pain.

I

Have waited for them…

Through all of the smiles

And hope

All the while

I waste here alone…

Hepkor grew a chair out of a tree as he walked away from the circle and he struggled to sit down. Every motion seemed tiring and painful for him. The music continued but Hepkor didn't sing, he only explained, "Yes… it's true I'm afraid. Druids like myself used to be renowned for our magic, now look at me. Alone as the Yule Tide approaches. It's sickening you know. Abandoned. We…I used to lead them before everything went wrong."

"The others will be missed." His Oracle noted sadly. Hepkor looked to his staff and nodded, "Yes…yes they will."

His singing resumed.

HEPKOR

I gave them all I had on that day

Set the logs to flame,

The crackles of decay,

Did shine a light, in those darker times

When I was once divine.

Hepkor became a little upset and hiss green staff flared up in frustration.

HEPKOR

But…now!

They ignore me!

And how!

They don't reward me!

How could ever find myself belonging?

When I find myself longing.

For that frame of mind

When I was once divine.

He sighed as the light tune finished. It didn't sound too villainous at all. It sounded sad, like a grandpa who once was loved was now ignored by his family. The petals rested on his armrest, swirling lightly.

"Go down into town, and ask them. Ask if they will recognize you as responsible for the Yule. Ask if they will allow you to be involved in their festivities." Oracle said in that light, happy voice of hers. Hepkor looked away, "The townsfolk don't want me."

"They may have forgotten why the celebrate the way they celebrate it, forgotten how you instilled those practices, but the spirit of the Yule still lives within them. Ask them to be a part of their celebration. Open yourself up to them." Oracle would have smiled if she was anything but a ball of light made of some flowers. Hepkor sighed and rubbed his brow, before giving a light smile and crying, "Oracle, I'm really not sure! What if they reject me? I'm not exactly the most presentable person."

"We have been working on it, Hepkor. They'll love you. You're like a big magical Father Christmas."

"What…is a Father Christmas?" Hepkor asked, believing it to be someone who gave birth to presents. Oracle, being an all-seeing spirit answered, "It's…umm…a big guy with a long beard who they celebrate."

"I'm a…tall guy…with a long beard." Hepkor said optimistically. Oracle took the same light tone with a bit of enthusiasm, "My point exactly."

He stood up and held himself up with a walking stick that looked like a root. He looked towards the magic ball of spiritual petals and entrusted her, "Prepare my best magical robes, Oracle! I'll go down and set all my worries to rest. It's the holiday season soon after all. Surely, they would be open to someone new?"

The spirits, who was now recognized as Oracle, flew around him and made little wooden hands grow out of the ground to work on making his robes look nice. She decided to follow through and asked, "Wonderful sir! Should I knit a cap for Sos?"

"That would be lovely, Oracle. Thank you." Hepkor affirmed and faded into the fog, as our story passes to the steam and smoke emitting from a bakery where a pie was fresh out of the oven. A cook placed the pie out on a table to cool down. He hardly noticed the little ears of Sim peeking over the table. She peered over at the mince meat pies and slowly began to extend her paw towards the treat.

The cook happily took the pie off the table, still unaware of Sim's presence, and set it in the display window of the bakery. Sim eyed her prize in mild annoyance, then tiptoed back down to the floor and began to crawl towards the case. She looked to the chef, who seemed to be talking with a butcher about something. It wasn't her concern, so she leapt to the display case and sat next to the pie with a look of pride. She lifted her paw and extended her claws like a knife to cut the pie. It was then she noticed the little girl looking at her through the other side of the display case.

Both Sim and the girl were surprised at first, but Sim instantly resolved this problem by sticking her tongue out at the child to taunt her, then returning to the pie. With a quick slice, the shell of the pie was opened, and the steam of the minced meat of the pie entered Sim's nostrils. Both Sim and the child breathed in heavily, then sighed in eager hunger. Sim eyed her prize and smugly lay down next to the pie and pinched a bite with her claw. Just as she was about to take a bite, she noticed what the cook was working on with the butcher.

The cook was given pounds of meat and fruit, which he set down and began to chop up with a large knife. Sim watched in amazement, as raisins, figs, and beef were loaded into a pan where a pie crust was prepared. Both the cat and the little girl watched in yearning as the pie was covered, then sprinkled with sugar. The finishing touch were apple slices made into a fan pattern on top, then juiced with an orange slice and a lemon slice.

Sim's mouth was opened wide in amazement. She looked back towards the peasant pie she had previously cut open, then immediately pushed it away in disgust, thrusting her nose into the air.

The cook slipped the pie into the oven and left it open while he washed his hands. Sim leapt into the oven and gazed over the pie with a sense of pride. Once again, she extended one claw up to cut the pie open. Just as she was about to slice it, her heart skipped a beat when she heard the oven door close behind her.

Sim began to pat against the oven door, trying to get the cook's attention and mewed loudly. Eventually, the cook looked down at the oven and opened the door slightly to look inside. Sim launched out of the oven like a rocket, kicking off the cook's face and bounding from the countertops out the door into town.


	11. Chapter 10

The Lighthouse

Wenna and Tom were walking down towards the lighthouse the sunlight at their backs and a few clouds in the sky as they neared Wenna's home. Along the path she noted, "You'll like my father. He's determined. Lost his legs in the Great War, but he's still determined to help the town."

She opened the door into the lighthouse for TOM. The lighthouse was on the rocky cliffs beside the town. It was purely white, with a small room above for lighting the way for ships, but a one-story house below for Wenna and her father. The house itself sunk deeper into the ground, with a small kitchen, a living room, and dining room. Both bedrooms were occupied by Wenna and her parents. Much like Tom's home, it was old, but he was accustomed to these things.

"Papa! I have a guest!" Wenna called out to the house. A man was sitting down in the dining room. He had a healthy beard and an upright position. He was a military man, and he knew it. He woke up suddenly and swerved his wheelchair around to the door where Wenna was waiting. Joshua looked eager to meet his daughter and this 'guest'.

"Wenna! My sweet girl!" Joshua had a booming voice that demanded adventure. He rolled up to Wenna and offered his arms to her. His tweed jacket was thatched, and buttoned, but his pants fell flat at his knees, a side effect of his long-term lack of limbs left lapsed like in the war. Wenna bent down and hugged her father, his sharp moustache tailored to the perfect trim. She took this time to introduce Tom, "Papa, this is Tom Bawcock, he will be staying with us for a few weeks. I was hoping you could teach him how to fish."

"Of course! No use having someone 'round the house if they don't work at it." Joshua followed it up with a crackled laugh, like a fire. He offered his hand to Tom, not hostile towards him in the least. Tom accepted the handshake, and tried to pry his eyes away from Joshua's condition. Wenna was satisfied by this introduction and walked off into the other room. As soon as he was in the clear, Joshua turned very serious towards Tom. He wasn't much in the way of angered, all the fight seemed to have been kicked out of him during the war, but he looked grave. "Tom, if you're going to be here in Mousehole, make this place your home, could you do me a favor?"

"Of course, sir." Tom was caught off guard but expected this reaction. He read a lot of books where fathers were like this.

"Wenna's mother is constantly at that cannery. She doesn't get to see her often, and although she denies it, I'm not…easy to take care of. I'd greatly appreciate it if you were here to help her. Rumors travel fast in small towns, and your reputation for leaving other towns behind precedes you." Joshua explained, and his concern was not without reason. Tom was deadly silent, not sure what to make of the situation. Joshua coughed and then looked down, anticipating Tom to respond. Tom soon complied, "Oh…yes. Of course."

"I will hold you to that Tom Bawcock." Joshua promised. Wenna called from the other room, "Who wants gingerbread?"

Tom rapidly turned back to Joshua and the elder man asked of another favor. Joshua turned fearful and almost amused. "Also, could you smile through her cooking? Please. I want someone else to suffer through it."

This resulted in Tom trying to cut the loaf of gingerbread, only for his knife to collide with the loaf like a brick. He then tried to cut it again with little success, and eventually chuckled to himself as he made a mock version of 'Jingle Bells' by striking the loaf.

Wenna gave him a deadpanned expression from across the table, while Joshua tried to hide his laughter.

Outside Mousehole

Hepkor strode through the fog, his footsteps practically fading into the mist as he walked. Nerville was standing outside of the path and was covered up by a cloak. He extended out an empty can and shook it, begging, "Please, kind sir, spare a penny?"

Hepkor stopped in his tracks, and turned to the beggar. Normally he wouldn't stop for a commoner, but this was a season of kindness, and if he was going to show the mortals he had good intentions, he needed to demonstrate this kindness to anyone, even the lower class. Hepkor smiled with the feeling of the holidays and turned to Nerville, dropping several ancient coins into the can.

"May the spirit of the Yule flow through you, mortal. Let this help you down the right path." Hepkor smiled broadly like a warm sun. He began walking down the path again, stroking the mink scarf 'round his neck. Almost instantly Nerville was to his feet and held a knife to Hepkor's throat from behind. A green glowing began to emit from the druid's cane, but Hepkor was still surprised by the development. This surprise turned into anger, and his mink scarf began to slither across his neck.

The camera's view swapped to Nerville holding up the knife. Out of Hepkor's robes came an enraged mink that bore its teeth and flew at Nerville's face, hissing and screeching. It began to cut and bit at him, knocking him back onto the grass behind him.

Hepkor turned to Nerville, having retained his temper once again as the light from his cane shined the green light against the crook, the shadow of him struggling to tear the canine off him echoed against the large rock behind him. Hepkor whistled for Sos, and the mink scattered off the criminal, giving him a slim opportunity to breath. Before another second could pass, Hepkor whacked the ground with his cane, and roots grew up from the earth and grabbed Nerville by his limbs, tying him down.

Hepkor grimaced, disgusted by the waste of life and shook his head. Sos crawled up the druid's robes and sat atop his shoulder. The druid pet his friend delicately with two fingers and smiled as he scratched under its chin. Eventually, Nerville's grunts and squealing caught his attention again, and he redirected his attention to the con.

"You have wasted your opportunity in this world lying and cheating. Even when shown kindness, you decided to abuse it. I hope, for your sake, in your next life you'll be a better person. But, until then, you will be sacrificed for a higher purpose." Hepkor loomed over him like a reaper to his crop. He struck the ground with his cane once more, and in the shadow upon the rock, roots could be seen bursting out of the ground and coiling entirely around Nerville. As Nerville screamed, Hepkor let Sos slip back under his neck to sleep.

Hepkor began to walk away, and Oracle flew up beside him from the trees. She seemed disappointed and scolded him, "That was unnecessary."

"It was completely necessary." Hepkor countered, but Oracle returned, "You just attacked a man."

"An awful man. It was self-defense. He tried to mug me! I was kind to him, and he tried to mug me. It was justified." Hepkor continued to defend himself. Oracle insisted, "You can't mutilate everyone who does something wrong."

"Of course I can. Nobody else is going to do it. How many others do you think that man has swindled? Five? Ten?" Hepkor interrogated. He scoffed in justice, but Oracle wasn't letting up, "It's still an overreaction. What if the commoners see?"

"I'm not going to do anything like that to the townsfolk. This is a time of joy and friendship. When I walk up, they'll greet me with open arms and toast to me as I toast to them under the moonlight!" Hepkor decided, but Oracle reluctantly asked, "And if they don't? What if they don't accept you?"

"Then I'll go to the next town, until I find someone who will. As for the rejects…" Hepkor elaborated. He smashed the ground with his cane and the roots of NERVILLE behind him burst into flame. He continued back on the path to Mousehole, not phased from his path, but now more even more determined than ever to open to mortals. If this was a model citizen, then they were in more dire need of his kindness than he thought. He finished, "Cruelty begets cruelty. And those who are hateful towards their superiors must bear the consequences of their actions."


	12. Chapter 11

Mousehole Boathouse

Tom ran through the streets, only to come to a screeching halt when he heard a clatter from one of the market stalls. Out of a pile of fish came Sim, who leapt into Tom's arms with a fish in mouth. Tom looked surprised and relieved and sighed, "Sim! Where have you been?"

"Hey!" Came the call of the fishmonger from the streets. Tom looked towards the sound of the Fishmonger calling out. The Fishmonger hobbled towards the two, and watched the cat with one eye squinted. He leered at the feline and nammered at her, "There's the bugger! Give me back my fish.

Sim climbed up and on top of Tom's shoulder, fish in mouth with pride.

"Oh? Now you like me?" Tom retorted, and the sarcasm in Tom's voice was overwhelming. He began to run away, but the Fishmonger continued to yell to him, "Oui! You need to pay for that!"

"I'll pay you back later!" Tom yelled back at him. The Fishmonger shook his head as Tom ran off, tsking and taaing in spite.

Tom ran down the docks towards the Boathouse after following specific instructions by Wenna. She whistled to him from offscreen, while the camera looked up from the ports below. Tom stopped above and looked out over the raised path to where Wenna was waiting. She stood on a white boat as it rocked back and forth. A dock was hooked to the boat and atop it was Joshua, who was dressed for the occasion in a white cap and a light blue shirt. He waved to Tom and pointed out, "Tom, in my experience it's very difficult to learn how to fish if you're nowhere near the boat."

Tom chuckled and climbed up onto the railing and leapt down to the dock with a clunk. However, since he wasn't Sim, he landed on his back and not his feet. Sim leapt down effortlessly and looked over Tom like a conquered beast.

"Tom!" Joshua yelled to him in shock. Wenna also shouted out to him, "Tom!"

Joshua rolled over to Tom and Wenna leapt onto the dock from the boat. Tom groaned as he climbed back up and Sim sat next to him being emotionally supportive. Joshua began to correct the behavior, "You could have gotten hurt!"

Wenna grabbed Tom's hand and pulled him up, instructing, "Use your knees next time."

"Don't encourage him to do a next time!" Joshua corrected, but Wenna waved it off, "He's fine. I've gotten in worse scrapes. And he's a big guy."

"Tom, she's a bad influence. She spent her whole childhood running across rooftops and hurting herself." Joshua scolded Tom, but also Wenna. Tom looked between the two then concluded, "I'll uh…take your word for it."

He was led to where the boat was set and gazed into the water. Little fish swam about and nibbled the seaweed along the posts of the dock. Mowzer followed next to him and peered into the water as well, then began to paw at the fish below with an evil look. Thankfully, they were far out of her reach. Wenna slapped Tom on the back and pulled him out from the trance of watching the subtle beauty of the ocean. The bulky worker nearly knocked Tom into the water below. He wasn't exactly an anchor as much as a coffee mug. She snapped, "Oi! Snap out of it mate! We got work to do."

Tom looked up at the boat and the large gap. He backed up and prepared to jump, only for Wenna to cross his path carrying a giant wooden ramp for Joshua. She set it down and held it in place with both hands along the left side. She nodded to Joshua, who began to push forward and rolled along the ramp onto the boat.

She winced as the board began to bend downward as the chair went across to the boat. The wheel ran over her thumb and she grit her teeth in pain, but eventually Joshua made it aboard. Tom couldn't help but notice Wenna's smile to see Joshua pleased with this development. He decided to instead help her lower the ramp from the path.

"Thanks." Wenna breathed slowly. Tom assured her, "No problem."

Joshua yelled to them from the ship, "Come on!"

Joshua beamed aboard the ship and rolled towards the ship's wheel like a sixteen-year-old at prom. Tom looked to Wenna and was concerned. He hesitated at first, but asked, "Is it…difficult to care for him?"

Wenna was angered at the comment, but reluctantly admitted, "It's difficult to care about anyone."

Through the wind, Joshua could be heard calling, "Adventure awaits us!"

The Ocean

Tom held onto one of the ropes of the sails and looked out at the sunset as it lowered down over the horizon. Waves struck lightly against the boat, and salt water sprayed out at him as a Cormorant flew overhead. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, taking it all in. He took his father's handkerchief from his coat and prepared to drop it in the waves. He sighed and let go. It drifted down to the water below, but splashed back onto him against his leg. He sighed and pocketed it again. Joshua interrupted his train of thought, "Thomas! Come my boy!"

Joshua was handling the anchor and a long chain. He muttered to himself all the way, "Let's see…this should just be…oh!"

Wenna took the anchor from him with one hand and freed the chain with the other before dropping the heavy hook over the side of the boat and letting the chain roll until it reached it's end along the crank to the right of the boat.

"Oh! Yes. Thank you, Wenna." Joshua cleared his throat. He reached for a net on the ground, but it was just out of his reach. Wenna picked it up and handed it to him. Joshua once again awkwardly thanked her, "Oh. Thank you again, Wenna. Come along Tom."

Tom walked up to him and watched as he held the net open. Joshua went into more detail, "Now Tom, you must never let the net go free on either side. The tide will take it as well as the fish with it faster than you can think. The ocean is alive, Tom. Every wave breaths and flows. See those double enders?"

He pointed up at a Cormorant that flew up above and flapped in the wind. Joshua smiled, "That's good luck! The sea is on our side! Do you understand?"

"Sorta. My father told me they would leave crumbs of pasty for the ones lost in the mine for good luck." Tom pieced it all together, drawing parallels. Joshua went a little far with this comparison, "I don't know much about mining, but the favor of the spirits and ghosts of the Isle are essential. Don't underestimate them, or you're sure to pay for it."

Tom was a little horrified, but didn't say anything, and Wenna tightened up. Her eyes flew from Tom to Joshua and she tried to get her father's attention by tapping his shoulder and asking, "Hey, Dad, could we talk about something for a second?"

A naïve and unaware Joshua continued to merrily turn to his daughter, "Of course! What is it?"

Wenna turned Joshua around and began to whisper with him. Joshua turned back around to Tom and immediately apologized, "Oh my goodness Tom, I am so sorry!"

"It's…ok. You didn't know." Tom insisted that it be forgotten, but Joshua was too humble to let it pass, "No, it's not ok."

"How about we focus on fishing? Earlier you mentioned something about knots?" Tom asked, trying to change the subject. Joshua jumped right on the subject. "Oh! Yes!"

Joshua pulled out something from his coat and handed it over to Tom.

"Use these to become a little more comfortable with the knots over the next few weeks. I want them memorized by the time Christmas rolls around!" Joshua near promised with a twinkle in his eye. Tom neatly replied, "Yes sir."

"Wonderful! Well. Back at it!" Joshua proclaimed and tossed the net over the side of the boat, the sudden toss fading into the waves


	13. Chapter 12

The Cannery

Tom went through the streets of Mousehole with a pack of cards in his hand. As he flipped through them he muttered to himself, "Let's see…Around twice, through once…Arbor?"

He flipped over the card in his hand and cursed, "Dang it!"

As Tom walked around, so too did Jacob who was busy looking over a pie being bought by a small child. As the child happily ran to go eat her pie, Jacob stepped in front of her and proclaimed, "My! That is a beauty."

He snatched it from the child and took it all in with a long sniff as he held it out of her reach, then asked rhetorically, "Ahh…mind if I get a taste?"

He stuck his finger into the center of the pie and tasted it. After some puckering, he shrugged and threw the pie into the air where it splattered on the ground because it, "Needs work."

Jacob snickered to himself then caught eye of Tom going through the cards.

Tom was yanked backward in his tracks suddenly as a hand grabbed the back of his coat. Tom's foot was extended over the water, as he had become so invested into his cards he hadn't noticed himself nearly walking into the harbor. Jacob sipped a cup of tea in one hand and held Tom in the other, eventually yanking him back to the street. Tom, was surprised to say the least but he chucked it off nervously to Jacob, "Oh! Thanks…Jacob."

Jacob shrugged and pulled Tom away from his path. He asked casually, "No problem mate. Whatcha got there?"

"Oh, these? Joshua is teaching me how to fish." Tom explained, blissfully unaware of the kingpin. Jacob saw this, as an opportunity, "Is he now? You starting independently or working for a larger company?"

"I… don't know?" Tom slowly said. Jacob seemed to light up at the comment. He hooked TOM to the left with his arm. It wasn't noticeable at first, but in Jacob's left coat pocket was a dollar bill. Tom could swear it's expression changed with Jacob's mood, since that permanent smile on the man's face wasn't much of an indication. It was beaming at the moment as Jacob pointed out, "Well, I happen to run a little cannery just outside town. Some sailors think that selling out on the street is the way to go, but Tom, I can tell you know a better opportunity when you see it. My company sells canned Pilchard from here to Scotland. Heck, we're even looking at a property in New Orleans!"

Tom was a little overwhelmed at the idea, but looked interested when he heard that the company was even in America. He shook his head and refocused on the task at hand.

"I really should be headed back to Wenna and Joshua." Tom remembered. Jacob held him firm, "Showing you around the cannery will only take a second, Tom. Besides, you'll get a chance to see Wenna's mum. Please? I did just stop you from walking into the ocean."

Tom sighed and grimaced, but he eventually caved in, "Sure?"

"Knew you'd be interested! You're going to love it Tom! Seeing the world, braving the great wide open!" Jacob led him through Mousehole up a big hill where a large brick building could be seen in the inside of the cannery was a large warehouse were workers pulled levers and switches attached to massive machines and gears. Fish would spill through grinders and workers would take it and use a large slicer to lop off the heads, eventually pushing it back down the belt towards the grinder.

As soon as Jacob came in, there was a forced lighter tone, like the factory itself was trying to smile for the boss. Jacob stepped up some stairs, Tom following behind like an anxious lapdog. Jacob explained, "Now Tom, if you're going to be living in this town, you gotta be pulling your own weight."

"But…" Tom tried to counter but had yet to realize he had no say in the matter. Jacob demanded, "No buts about it!"

He snapped his fingers.

JACOB(singing)

I'm the kingpin of sailing

Here in Mousehole

There's nobody else worth tailing

Who will show ya how to get around.

So, let's get started

It's only take a tick

Don't look broken hearted

Let Mr. Monopoly show his tricks

Jacob stepped off the stairs and onto a conveyer belt loaded with perfectly ordered beheaded fish. He took a gold coin from his pocket and flipped it in one hand, catching it over and over while workers flocked to either side of the conveyer belt, smiling brightly in desperation.

CHORUS

Mr. Monopoly!

What can I do for you please?

See potential in little me!

Mr. Monopoly would you please?

Jacob stepped off the belt and onto another platform where he greeted paintings on the wall of him as a youngster. The camera panned into the painting, where a child in a flat cap and a brown jacket began to walk up to other children and offer them toys. In return he got many coins, which he flipped no differently than he did on the conveyer belt.

JACOB

When I was little,

I'd often fiddled

By dealing with the kids on the playground

The young boy turned around to see a large building being built while his parents with overexaggerated smiles dumped two money sacks by the boy's side as he looked over the project.

JACOB

But take it from a tike-coon

The best way to begin is to start soon,

And make sure you start off with some ground.

The painting faded into a moving news article where a teenage Jacob pushed an associate posing with him for a picture out of the photograph into an article below filed for a missing person's case.

JACOB

Make sure you have some space,

Kick the competitors out of place

And make sure not to leave a trace!

Take it from Mr. Monopoly!

With that final line, it faded back to the factory floor, where Tom was desperately trying to find his way through, apologizing to workers as he bumped past them. They were busy chopping off fish heads and pulling levers, only stopping to occasionally look up at a banner of Jacob's face like he was a god.

CHORUS

Mr. Monopoly!

Won't you pay me please?

We work hard until the break of day!

Mr. Monopoly!

Jacob snatched Tom away from the left side and set him beside him as he took Tom upstairs to his office.

JACOB and CHORUS

You know there's no stopping me

Nobody here's gonna stand in my way!

Tom was suddenly standing to Jacob's left side as he looked wickedly at someone across from the desk of his office. His office was dimly lit, the only real light coming from the closed blinds leading out to the factory floor.

JACOB

If you run into losses,

Remind them who their boss is,

And cut their growth at the roots!

Though at first, they may be scared!

They should always be prepared

Selfish hooligans always get the boot!

Jacob watched with a goofy shrug as the ex-employee was grabbed by two large men and dragged out the door silently crying. Jacob kicked open the door of his office in a sparkling green suit as he danced across the catwalk. Stage lights followed him and Tom as they went over the workers, who looked up and put their hands in the air.

CHORUS

Mr. Monopoly!

Please send us overseas!

Let us pass up debt all along the isle!

Follow your best wishes,

Selling those fishes!

So, one day we go to our family and reconcile!

Jacob slid down the railing of the catwalk into two workers carrying buckets. The spotlights flew to him as he pulled the sides of their cheeks into a smile below the massive banner of himself. The music slowed down temporarily as he sang.

CHORUS and JACOB

Fishing

Is our mission

I want to make sure you aren't missing

Out on your position.

It wasn't long before the music picked up again and Jacob shoved the workers away to leap down to another conveyer belt.

CHORUS

So, let Mr. Monopoly treat you please!

Jacob held his heart like he was receiving applause while the workers below waved their hands to the show music.

JACOB

Oh, you're far too kind!

CHORUS

Let Mr. Monopoly suit your needs!

JACOB

Oh, you're blowing my mind!

CHORUS

Work for Mr. Monopoly please!

Tom spotted the exit and tried to make a sprint away, but Jacob stepped in front of him, offering his hand. The look in Jacob's eyes was like he was making a deal for Tom's soul.

JACOB

Because now that you've found it,

You'll never be without it!

Jacob eventually opted to instead violently grab Tom's arm and pull him up the stairs while the workers sang. Throughout it, Jacob smiled like it was a warm summer day.

CHORUS

Whenever you're struggling financially,

Put your faith in our Monopoly!

Once you're in his care you'll never be free!

Of Mr. Monopoly!

Jacob stepped onto the highest platform, a central gear with larger gears below it that spun slowly like a fountain. He became so engrossed in his own pride, he hardly noticed Tom starting to break free of his grip.

JACOB

Though others tried to stop me,

Nobody can top me!

I'm Mr. Monopo-

The workers below danced below, kicking out one leg below on the lower gears. It was then that Tom broke free and ran down the stairs towards the door.

CHORUS

Mr. Monopo-

Jacob glared at Tom as he left and smiled angrily, rushing after him with one arm extended to grab the man once again as the song finished.

JACOB and CHORUS

Mr. Monopoly!

The song suddenly was cut off as the door flew open from outside, the sound of thunder ringing out as a hulking ghostly robed figure cut out the lights and stepped inside, his cane glowing. Hepkor walked in, very aware he was the elephant in the room. Tom had been pushed back from the noise and the surprise of the door swinging out at him. Now he sat on the ground, terrified and caught between two crazed lunatics.

Even Jacob was caught off guard, backing away from Tom and the figure. Hepkor stepped in and looked down at Tom, offering his hand in a friendly way, "Do not be frightened. I'm sorry I scared you."

This was a little contradictory since from Tom's point of view, Hepkor was a tall scary looking man with a long grey beard and a mink scarf he thought saw breathing. But, he was more willing to trust this stranger than Jacob now, so he took the offer and was lifted to his feet. It wasn't long before a slightly enraged Jacob pushed him out of the way and smiled that sleazy smile to the druid. The bill in his pocket looked livid, but Jacob offered a smile of invitation, "Greetings druid! You come to us in the holiday season! What brings you?"

"Hello there, I am Hepkor. I seek to know mortals will still take me. For they still have the compassion of the Yule in their hearts." Hepkor explained, very cheerful in his approach. Jacob struggled to understand and asked, "And…you?"

"In times long past, I helped to create the traditions you use this season. I hope you still hold these traditions dear to you all. That though time may pass, love is still at the core of the Yule." Hepkor believed and held that belief close. Jacob quickly tried to push this away as well as Hepkor, lightly reassuring him, "I can assure you, we still appreciate those traditions, and not one moment goes by where they aren't important. So, how about I show you out?"

Jacob circled around Hepkor and held the door open for him. However, much to his surprise, Hepkor was determined to stay. He laughed cheerfully and shook his head, "That is not necessary, leader of Mousehole. I was hoping your workers and I could go into town and celebrate over some fiddling while we watch a great Yule log burn."

Jacob's smile winced slowly, "My…workers?"

"Of course! Wouldn't they love to go home, see their families for the season?" Hepkor asked. Tom spotted one woman worker smile broadly and begin to weep softly. He could only guess this was Wenna's mother. Jacob, however, shoved a bill to one of his workers and directed his attention to the fish heads they had prepared to dump in the grinder. He then smiled again and led Hepkor down the assembly line. Jacob sighed and dismayed, "My dear poor druid. You are confused."

Hepkor cocked his head and questioned Jacob, "How so?"

Jacob continued to inch the old man towards the end of the line where a bucket of fish heads was prepared to be dropped, all the while spouting lies, "These people don't deserve your love. The only thing they know is how to sit down and shut up. They're wastes of your time who don't know the true meaning of home or family."

Jacob continued to keep an eye on the bucket and its worker at the catwalk above, "They see you and all they think about is how they can benefit from those traditions, sell little trinkets at stores and rake in the cash. They're tarnished by greed."

He finally stopped Hepkor at the landing spot with an evil grin. The druid refused the accusations. "I won't accept that. If they have lost their way, it is my duty to show them a kind path. Let them go home and be joyful."

Tom finally looked closer and followed Jacob's occasional glance up to the catwalk. His eyes widened in fear as he spotted the bucket, and the nervous worker who looked away from the bucket. Jacob finished, "I think you're mistaken. The people of Mousehole don't care about family. And they don't care about you!"

Tom tried to push past Jacob to stop it, but the bucket had already fallen, fish heads spilling all over the druid's beautiful white robes. Oracle watched from the front window of the factory, ready to cheer and support her master and friend. Sos flew out of the robe and onto the ground, trying to shake the guts off and whimpering as Hepkor's heart shattered.

Hepkor himself stood idly, cane in his hand as he stared out at the workers. He looked on the verge of tears.

Jacob burst into laughter, and elbowed one of his workers to join in. The worker awkwardly and sadly faked laughter, and it soon spread through the others, the laughter ringing out like cracked bells.

Jacob didn't give the old man much of a chance to recover, and whistled for security. Four men with metal batons came onto the factory floor. As Hepkor began to rise, he was knocked down again and again as the metal struck against him.

Tom tried to push past Jacob but the kingpin shoved Tom back and watched the chaos unfold with glee. Hepkor watched Tom, wincing and aching with each strike from the attackers he tried to speak but couldn't. The message was simple, "Help me…"

Oracle flew into the thick of it and blew out a blinding light, knocking the attackers away and flying about, whizzing aggressively above Hepkor so he could recover. She stopped when she thought the druid was ready to stand and refocused her attention on him. As soon as she did, she was scooped up in a tin can.

"Neat little thing. But…not worth my time." Jacob cackled. Hepkor stood up and tried to chase after Jacob but fell from the pain of his wounds. He clutched his side. Jacob sighed, then walked down to the end of the assembly line and opened a large furnace. Jacob finished his display with, "Welcome to my town."

He tossed the tin can in, and the flames burst into light, as Oracle was fried.

The druid breathed coarsely, scowling before finally losing his temper. He stabbed the concrete floor, spreading glowing green cracks along the factory while he breathed heavily. The laughter quickly vanished. Hepkor looked up at the workers and snarled at them. "Listen well. All of you. I came here in open arms. But you have proven not to be pure. Not worthy of the Yule or your families. So…people of Mousehole. I will wipe them out! I will destroy all you hold dear! Your town will choke on its own insolence! You will sacrifice yourselves to your own egos and be ripped into pieces!"

He struck the ground with his cane again and vanished in a swirl of smoke. As Jacob and the others watched in horror, he noticed Tom in the corner of his eye. Already he knew that kid would be a problem. Tom breathed emptily, "Why?"

"He tried to take what I own." Jacob answered easily. Tom ran out the door into the rain as Jacob watched with that same toothy grin.


	14. Chapter 13

Hepkor stormed through the circle as soon as he reappeared. A dark and menacing music began to play.

HEPKOR

I reached out to humanity again

I sought your hearts

and guess what happened then?

I watched it fall apart

You see

What else did they want from me?

He gazed into a pool of rain that had formed in the center stone as it lay in the middle.

HEPKOR

And now I'll take their lives from them

At last they'll pay the price

When

You make a noble sacrifice!

Sos hid behind one of the outer rocks and watched from afar as lightning began to crackle up above. Hepkor swirled his arms around the pool of water.

HEPKOR

So, I laugh as your town will burn

I'll watch as your children squirm

Maybe for once you'll think twice

When you make a noble sacrifice!

He paced around the stone, slamming his cane down repeatedly. With each smack, the rocks around him cracked with more lime light.

HEPKOR

First, they say they want me

Then they choose to taunt me

At least they could have sought me

Then they could have taught me

And given me some advice!

But now they're just a noble sacrifice!

The lightning above shocked the pool of water and electrified, spreading shocks everywhere in the circle. Hepkor continued to rant.

HEPKOR

You know it alarmed me!

You know that it harmed me

So!

That mortals were wretches?

That they're all tetches?

How was I to know?

Hepkor bent on his knees as the pool spiraled up into a vortex.

HEPKOR

No boats will escape!

Their hope will break!

No sailors will be able to save them!

No cars will drive!

And their food supply will betray them!

So there's no one left alive!

A storm had formed from the pool, a giant cyclone that flew above Hepkor.

HEPKOR

And above all else!

They only think of themselves!

He looked at the storm and grit his teeth and shook his head in rage.

HEPKOR

So goodbye little mice!

Say goodbye to your town!

And let this monstrous horror surround!

If that's not on par,

Then I'll laugh as you starve!

You can't be saved!

You're depraved!

But be happy you made

And you gave

A noble sacrifice!

The storm floated towards Mousehole, thundering and booming, sucking in more clouds and currents as it went out onto the ocean, swarming in rain and wind, ready to obliterate anyone and everything in its way. Hepkor finished and gave a last shout as he watched it pass.

HEPKOR

After all! It's all you're good for!

The Boathouse

Tom rushed into the boathouse calling out for Wenna, only to run right into the wooden skeleton of a boat and strike his forehead, "Wenna! Wenna! Ow!"

He backed up and held his forehead as he looked around the small boathouse. The boathouse itself was cluttered with spare parts and wooden frames ready for use. Just beside the door was a reception desk that had a mailbox. Below the desk was a sign that said, 'Order forms here'. As Tom calmed down, he heard the tune of a radio playing some light strings.

He peered past the ship skeleton into the other room where Wenna was turning a large wrench connected to a set of pipes below a fully constructed boat. Tom clearly didn't recognize she was preoccupied, so he once again called for her attention. Sim leapt down from the ship above to lick a few fish guts that had spilt onto Tom. He continued to ask again, "Wenna!"

"Yes Tom?" Wenna grunted, exerting a good deal of effort into the wrench. She eventually hooked up one side of the metal pipe, then climbed down to the other side to connect it.

"Something happened at the cannery" Tom began. Wenna replied, "You went to the cannery?"

"Jacob dragged me there. I tried to leave but he just kept yanking me back in. Then this druid showed up." Tom continued. This raised Wenna's attention, "Druid?"

"Yeah. Big guy in white robes with a long beard."

Wenna hoisted herself up from the bottom of the boat to look at him like he was crazy. She didn't look dressed to deal with Tom's rambling, as she was wearing coveralls and was smeared with seaweed on her gloves and knees from cleaning out the scupper. She looked surprised and kind of spiteful, then repulsed. "Ugh! That smell. Yep, that's the cannery. What is a druid?"

Tom exhaled slowly then puckered awkwardly. "Druids were sorcerers that led people throughout the islands until the Romans came through. They could see the future through people's blood, sacrificed criminals to spirits, and practiced magic. It's like the one thing I remember from school."

"Huh. A lot of my school experience was about calculus." Wenna explained. Tom countered, "How is that even remotely useful?"

She groaned and crept to her feet, heading along the boat to a small ladder. Tom continued to follow along up onto the small fishing vessel.

"So, what did the druid say?" Wenna continued the story. Tom returned to the subject, "Well at first, he was open to us celebrating and even offered to join us. Bring all the workers down to spend the holidays with their families."

Wenna nodded slowly, opening a wooden hatch in the floor of the boat to look at a drain.

"Uh huh." Wenna kinda listened. Tom continued further, "Then Jacob spilled fish heads all over him and he got mad."

"Crab!" Wenna plucked a small crab from the drain and tossed it away, but Tom hadn't noticed.

"I know! That's what I thought too! And then his goons started to beat the guy senseless."

Wenna tried to turn something on but the water failed and nothing happened so she punched the boat.

"Ship!"

"I know! So now the druid's going to make us pay for what happened." Tom finished. Wenna closed the hatch then stood back up to look at Tom. She crossed her arms and sighed, biting her lower lip. Tom finally asked, "So…what should I do?"

Wenna scoffed, "You? That seems easy. You leave. This guy hates Mousehole, not you. Spend the holidays with your mum."

"Really?" Tom seemed surprised.

"I don't know. You were gonna leave anyway, right?" Wenna asked nonchalantly. She had expected it for a while. Tom looked betrayed, and a little hurt by the comment. Wenna didn't even stutter or flinch, like she already knew the outcome.

"I can't do that." Tom denied. Wenna didn't mind, "Why not? You don't have a reason to stay, do you?"

Tom looked at her with a piercing glare. She didn't care for it and corrected her, "Tom. You've known me for three weeks."

"But…you let me stay with you and your dad. You opened up to me. Kindness begets kindness." Tom insisted, but Wenna was still convinced to the wrong outcome. "You were out there all alone! I thought you needed help. You would have done the same if it were me or someone else, right?"

A deadly silent filled the air, as Wenna looked hopeful for Tom's response, "Yes, of course I would help."

"Then before you can learn to call this place a home, you have to make peace with your previous home. Reach out to someone else who felt the same way you felt. You need to go back." Wenna advised, but Tom was still a little scared. Tom gulped and opened his mouth to say something, but hadn't any idea. "I agree with you…but is now the right time?"

"It's the only time. If it doesn't happen now, you may never get that chance. Tom. Even if you think abandoning a problem is the solution, you can't run away from it. That's all the more reason you need to go see your mother." Wenna encouraged him, but Tom denied her, "I can't go back."

Wenna became frustrated. "You need to. As your friend, I am telling you to go back."

A rumble of thunder began to shake the boathouse. The lights above flickered lightly, as the storm neared the town and rain began to pour outside in waves. Tom stepped down the ladder by the boat and looked back at Wenna. She seemed afraid, but continued to encourage Tom, "Tom, you need to go."

Tom was too cowardly to reply, so he instead chose to rush out the door into the rain. He held his cap down over his eyes and began to walk down the street, Sim following behind, just under his coat.


	15. Chapter 14

The Train

Tom was sitting down on a bench aboard the train to his home town. Outside, rain pounded down upon the windows, and it would be a long two-hour ride. He pet Sim, who sat beside him on the bench. As usual, Sim was very sweet and open to the affection, only to suddenly bite Tom out of love. Tom flinched back and cringed, failing to understand why Sim or Wenna first liked him, then turned against him.

He looked outside, where the storm could be seen moving in the distance. Tom closed his eyes and tore away from the scene, looking around the passenger car. Everyone else had been dropped off at the other stations. He was alone, once again.

The train came to a slow halt, and the doors ahead of Tom were pried opened suddenly. A familiar figure stepped aboard the train, his cane glowing beside the electrical light.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Hepkor asked. Tom was stunned, and didn't reply. Hepkor strode to the seat across from Tom and sat down, holding himself in place with his cane. A moment of silence passed between them, but it was broken soon, "I didn't want to, you know."

"You're setting the worst storm in the history of the Isles on a small town. Why not just undo it?" Tom asked. He took the same quiet tone. He agreed with Hepkor's emotions but he didn't think that the reaction was justified. Hepkor felt similarly about Tom's actions, "Undoing it would imply I regret the decision. Your friend humiliated me. Disgraced my practices and hurt me."

Tom looked to him like he had lost his mind. Hepkor added, "You don't think I can feel embarrassed? Hurt?"

The mink scarf coiled from Hepkor's throat and slipped down to the floor. Sim leapt down to join the mink, prowling around the canine. Sos hissed at the feline, curling upwards and baring its teeth.

"Feeling hurt led to the storm in the first place. It was emotion that forced me to act on the moment. I'm sure you'll end up doing something similar soon." Hepkor suggested to Tom. Despite his rage, he was still a little hesistant. He stood up as the doors of the train opened again, letting rain and wind into the train car, upturning seats and turning off some of the lights. Meanwhile, Sos and Sim prepared to tear one another apart. Thankfully, Hepkor whistled for his pet, and the mink flew back to his robes. Sos and Sim perched themselves on their respective master's shoulders, and Tom stood up to look at Hepkor on a level field.

"I might, but not yet. You've done something horrible to the people who opened up to me." Tom didn't even realize what he was saying. Hepkor agreed, but countered, "Those people insulted me because they were too afraid. I did it for everyone. The world is better off without them. Cruelty begets cruelty."

Hepkor looked Tom up and down slowly, while they faced them both on either so they closely resembled a mirror.

"I'll stop you. I'll save them." Tom was now determined. Hepkor shook his head and denied the claims, "Don't say things like that. You tried to help me, and I appreciate that, but I will kill you if you try to stop this. Don't try to create a cycle where you attack me for doing what's just."

"I won't attack you. Violence doesn't need to be solved like that."

Hepkor looked down and laughed heartedly, "I look forward to it, Tom. I'll be waiting."

Hepkor struck the ground below him, and he faded into fog, melting into the mist and the wind while the train doors closed behind him.

Coming Back

Tom knocked on the door and Dana opened it soon after, the grey sky behind him devoid of any way to address the situation. When Dana opened the door, she began to weep with joy and smiled as she hugged him tightly. Tom welled up a little and apologized, "I'm sorry for leaving."

Dana released him and shook her head, "Don't be. I'm just glad you're here. Come in! Come in!"

She opened the door and everything seemed to lighten up. Instead of the cold and dark place it was before, it was warm, where a fire was lit in the living room, and some flowery wallpaper had been set in the walls, while bright and colorful Christmas candles and wreaths had been laid around the house. Tom was surprised to see stockings over the fireplace, one for him, one for Dana.

Dana picked up a Santa hat from the dining table, and plopped it on top of his head.

DANA

Yuletide light

Morning bright

Has brought back a dream for me

Carried my baby far and wide

Brought him back from the sea.

She went over to the kitchen to prepare something, while Tom became familiar with his new surroundings.

DANA

My how time goes by

My how you've grown

But here in the Yuletide light,

You're never alone.

Sim came in and made herself comfortable by sitting right next to the fireplace and taking up all the heat. Dana came back to Tom, having noticed the cat. She quaintly asked, "Oh, who's this?"

Tom cleared his throat, holding his hand together tightly, "That's Sim, I picked her up a while back."

"Is she now? Hello there. Let's get you a nice saucer of milk, shall we?" She reached down and pet Sim. Sim did not make any attempt to bite the nice woman, and Tom became jealous. Tom gazed into the fire of the Yule log, as another fire burned in Mousehole.

Joshua lit the flame of the Lighthouse with a match, then closed the glass mirror. He sat on a wooden platform by some stairs that led down to the first floor, but he could never use them. He replaced the matches in his jacket, then began to climb down the long rope beside the platform leading from the top of the lighthouse down to his house. As he did, he thought fondly of his beloved, still working now of night.

JOSHUA

Yuletide fire

Heart's desire

Your light everlasting

Your dreams ever casting

Into that great wide world.

How I miss when I could feel the sun upon my shoulders

As the nights grow ever colder

And that morning seems to fade

So as I grow a little older

Let's get a little bolder

And warm around a fire we've made.

Joshua came down and hoisted himself into his chair using the rope then closed the door to the lighthouse behind him. He looked to his own fireplace where three stockings hung, one for everyone. He ran his fingers along one, where 'Mum' was stitched into the fabric.

JOSHUA

Carry her home for Christmas

Let the Yuletide turn the tides

There's no holly in folly

And all of me

Tries to survive

The fireplace faded into the fireplace of the Dynaarch Matriarch where sailors and their families are singing, hand in hand.

CHORUS

So Carry us home for Christmas!

And ever let the fire shine

No horrors so deep

Or shadows that creep

Will stop the Yuletide light!

Two sailors clinked their glasses against one another and it faded into three sailors out at sea, drinking from bottles as they worked their trade.

CHORUS

Though the night may grow old

And the sea may get cold

And the starlight is blocked by the clouds

Through that empty shroud.

I'll keep to my wits and my might

No toil will spoil

My home awaiting Yuletide light!

The sailors stepped up onto the side of the ship and tossed out a net that flew out into the waters.

Back at the Bawcock Househole, Dana was decorating a pie with Tom, who kept making suggestions, but no dialogue came out of his mouth. Instead, only Dana's singing was brought to attention.

DANA

So, bring me home for Christmas

Home in the Yuletide light

As it welcomes our hearts

And won't tear us apart

And holds us close this…night…

Frost climbed up along the edges of the glass windows and a snail napped on one of the frost coated flowers, huddled in his warm hovel. Over the fireplace through another window Tom was cutting up the pie for himself and Dana.

Dana came in and laid a saucer of milk for Sim, who got up to lap beside the bowl. She didn't bother to show Tom any attention. She had a new favorite. Tom took his father's handkerchief out of his jacket and looked it over by the fireplace. He was about to toss it into the fire but looked up at Dana in the other room and asked, "Hey Mum?"

"Yes?" Dana asked, having not noticed the handkerchief. Tom pocketed the rag, then asked, "Could I talk to you about something?"

"Sure, go ahead." Dana encouraged, from the kitchen, preoccupied. Tom hesitantly asked, "Could you come in? It's…important."

Dana went quiet, so she looked up from where she was leaving dishes to soak. She grabbed a rag to dry her hands off which she then left on the counter. Dana sat down across from Tom by the fireplace in a green armchair, her expression grave.

"After dad died, I hiked out to the woods and laid down among everything. Everything was bigger and better than me. Like everything else had a chance but I was just getting in its way. I felt alone, like there was nothing left…" Tom confessed, like he was talking to a higher power.

Dana grabbed his hand firmly then went over and hugged her son. She held her grip on him and spat out her words, "Tom. You aren't alone. And you will do something great, but you need others to do it."

She pulled back and looked at Tom eye to eye, "Tom…if you ever feel like doing something…bad, never be afraid to tell someone. Don't hesitate to reach out. People care about you Tom, even if doesn't always seem like that."

Another moment of silence echoed through. The only noises were that of the fireplace crackling and Sim lapping up her milk.

"I know that now." Tom stated, and Dana followed it up with, "What?"

"I've been staying with a family in Mousehole. I know I'm not alone. That people care for me, if it doesn't feel that way. But…something's happened. I think they're in danger." Tom explained. Dana nodded slowly, "And?"

"I just… wanted to let you know. If you don't hear from me…" Tom swallowed his guilt and tried to look away. Dana stood up, then began to walk into the dining room. She looked back at Tom and invited him to follow her, "Come on."

Tom looked down at Sim, then stood up from the chair with an audible groan. He came into the dining room where he saw a large cabinet where Dana was looking over a group photograph of all the miners. In the center was Tom's father, smiling out at the camera in his work uniform.

"Do you think your father didn't risk his life? Or any of the other men and women he worked with? Your friends? What about them?" Dana asked, "Nothing worth anything isn't worth fighting for."

Tom stepped towards the photograph, where he could see his father's handkerchief tucked away into his leather gloves.

"Life is about taking risks." Dana reminded him. Tom doubted further, "But what if I can't do it?"

"You may not be able to. But if something is really threatening that town, you'll step up. Confident people start fights Tom. It is the duty of Courageous people to end them. Sometimes without throwing a punch."

"How can you win a fight without fighting back?" Tom asked, and Dana completed, "You don't have to win a fight. You should accomplish your goal. Whatever is happening in Mousehole. You don't need to beat up whoever is harming you. You endure it until you reach your goal. Violence warrants more violence. Endurance warrants success."

Dana set the picture back, then looked up at Tom. "But…in the end, it's your decision whether you're going to do anything about it. You're normal. You're not a prince or a knight. But it's still your decision."

Tom left the house determined, with an oblivious Sim at his side while Dana watched from afar. As he came out from the little cottage, he caught sight of the mass of clouds in the distance, the storm headed towards Mousehole.

"Ok…that's a little bigger than I expected." Tom admitted. Sim mewed at his feet and him under him as rain began to come down and clouds began to block out the sun.


	16. Chapter 15

The Storm

The townsfolk watched in horror as the sun began to blacken from the clouds. A few people began to run inside, closing their market stalls and their windows and doors as the winds tossed crates and seaweed around like paper airplanes. Wenna rushed from building to building, trying to keep everyone inside as the town began to fall apart.

"Please! Get indoors!" She screamed to anyone who could hear. She ran down the steps beside the harbor, only to immediately regret this decision. A boat snapped free of it's rope and began to tilt towards the dock, it's mast smashing against the walls of the harbor like an axe ready to chop off a head. Wenna ran ahead of it, but the sail went flying and hooked around her, dragging her over into the water of the port.

Wenna was trapped underwater, the waves pushing against her with immense force and the sail trying to push her underneath. She pulled at the sail, trying to reach the end, but kept being tossed around by the tide. She continued to gasp heavily, pushing and pulling the sail away from her head until finally she was uncovered.

She looked around and swam with vicious determination, although she was nearing the wall of the harbor like an oncoming splatter on the windshield. With a lunge, her arm grabbed the mast of the boat and she dug her fingers into the wood. She winced and grit her teeth as she dragged herself out, kicking the water beneath her. Wenna pulled herself along the mast until she had reached a metal ladder leading down into the water.

The water continued to try and tear her apart as she hoisted up onto the ladder, the mast shaking like a wind pane all the while. Wenna would have taken this time to lay on the dock and rest, but the water didn't allow that, since the wet rails made it slippery. She crawled up the rungs towards town and eventually made it to the stone circle of the harbor. Wenna stumbled and kicked against the ground as she went up to the first building she found and pounded at the door and screamed for someone, "Please! Open the door!"

The door didn't budge, so Wenna kept going. The streets were flooded, heavy water pouring through like rapids. The market stalls flew apart and their rooves and doors flew open, flapping in the wind. Wenna persisted against the wind and the flooding, grabbing onto whatever was near her tightly. She slipped forward onto the cobblestone path ahead of her, scraping her knee as the winds continued to push against her.

She once again kicked her foot against the stone to get to her feet. This time, she kept to the sides of the street, constantly holding onto anything too heavy to be moved until she reached an alleyway. Wenna twisted into the alley, only for the force of the winds to encourage this behavior by spitting her down the path towards a door at the end of the path.

Wenna banged against the door, and to her surprise, it opened for her and someone grabbed her hand and pulled her inside.

The woman who let her in pulled the door closed behind her. It slammed closed violently from the wind, and the woman happily locked the door. Wenna promptly shuffled through the water, holding herself up along the wall while the door was battered by the winds and rain outside.

"Thank you." Wenna exhaled in exhaustion. The woman asked in concern, "Are you alright?"

"I need a moment."

Wenna looked around at the room, where candles were lit everywhere. There was a lightbulb embedded above, but power had long since been lost. Others were crowded around the candlelight, cold and scared. The floor was lightly flooded, but it was better than out there. The wine cellar itself was next to empty, and many people were sitting on barrels, holding themselves tightly as they shivered.

Wenna stepped towards everyone and sat down on another barrel while the woman sat down on another beside her. One man was holding his own cat close and stroking it harshly to keep it from flying out. Wenna could hear one survivor muttering, "It'll be ok…It'll be ok."

Wenna looked down at the candlelight and sighed. "I hope you're alright everyone. Wherever you are."

The Train Station

Tom sat in the train as it rumbled down the tracks. He was sitting down, but he held the seat tightly with one hand. Sim was sitting beneath the bench Tom was sitting on. A loud crumbling noise ran through the passenger car and Tom was thrown from his seat onto the floor. Unfortunately, the train hadn't been equipped with seatbelts.

Tom reached up and held the metal pole in the above the seats with both hands and tried to sit back down as the lights above him began to flicker wildly and the doors of the train car began to rattle. Tom slowly eyed the doors and began to make his way away from them, bending down to climb beneath the seats.

There was a rapping at his door and the Conductor explained to Tom, what he had explained to the other passengers. Tom opened the door slightly to hear, "Sir, I'm afraid that we'll have to stop at the Marazion until the storm ends. It's too dangerous for the storm to stop in Penzance."

Tom dreaded what he'd go through to get to Mousehole now. It was a two hour walk through the rain and cold. Eventually the train came to a screeching halt, and Tom hit the ground running out of the train into the station, fighting up against heavy winds as he had Sim tucked under his arm. He eventually made it indoors, where other passengers were huddled together with conductors and attendants.

The lights above flickered and rain pounded against the windows, but they were safe within the concrete tomb. Tom looked around for someone managing train departures. One attendant was busy explaining the situation to a large group of people huddled around in a mad panic.

"Everyone, please calm down. The best thing we can do is to wait out the storm. The trains cannot go out at this time. We will try and send them out as soon as it's safe to—" The attendant explained to everyone in the station, but caught Tom running out, "Sir!"

Tom had tried to make a run for the front door and was stopped by two guards who held him back with two batons. Tom continued to try and push past them, startling Sim. The cat flew out from Tom's arm and leapt out onto one of the guards eerily like when Sos leapt out at Nerville before. The guard scrambled as Sim ran around his head and hooked onto his head. Tom used this opportunity to push past the front door, letting in a hefty blast of wind. Sim jumped to his side as Tom ran out into the storm.

The storm outside knocked Tom left and right as he pushed against the wind. Thunder boomed over him and lightning crackled against the buildings of the town. Tom kept to the buildings, powering through town after town.

The camera showed Tom passing though different towns as it poured down on him. It phased into fields and farms where trees flew in the wind and collapsed.

The Barn

Eventually, Tom pushed into a small barn and slammed the door behind him. Inside, sheep were huddled together and hiding as a farmer pat their heads and tried his best to comfort them. Once Tom came in, the farmer didn't even respond, he just nodded his head in affirmation. Tom explained and admitted, "I'm trying to get to Mousehole."

The farmer slowly nodded. He was a little preoccupied. Tom pressed, "Am I close?"

The farmer nodded. Tom sighed in relief, then slid down to the ground and unbuttoned his coat. A wet and shivering Sim climbed out of the coat and sat next to Tom, despite this ridiculousness. Tom took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. He was soaked and sopping wet. He breathed heavily, wiping his eyes free of the water.

"You shouldn't try to stop this Tom." Hepkor's voice rang out from the farmer and his sheep. Tom looked up at the farmer who was staring at him blankly. He noticed the sheep were all staring at him with the same empty expression. The storm outside was deathly quiet. Tom scrambled and plucked up Sim before pushing his shoulder at the barn door and rushing back out into the fray.

The Cellar

Wenna stared into the candlelight while the winds slowly died down outside. She looked around the cellar to see people…normal people. They weren't dressed fancifully or looked like they were going to the ball. They didn't have evil stepmothers or were orphans. They were together, holding each other close in a warm embrace.

WENNA

So many people are forgotten

Lost to a lack of history

Their lives old and rotten

Broken like a lost mystery.

She took a can off the shelf and repulsed at Jacob's face grinning back at her.

WENNA

But not those who put themselves

Over everyone else

History remembers the 'best'

And everyone else is labeled as 'the rest'

The somber tone was lit up by the candles around the room and the strumming of a guitar. A little girl ran up to Wenna with a small book in hand of a woman in a big blue dress. Wenna took it and looked over the cover.

WENNA

Do you believe in fairy tales?

Of lost wishes once coming true?

Of a rich family who always prevails?

I once did too.

She opened the book for the child and saw herself in the book, a maid scrubbing and cleaning for everyone in a tower with the moon in the distance. Wenna continued to scrub in the story, but everything got in the way.

WENNA

Do you think I was once like you?

Who believed that happily ever after came true

Do you think I might believe?

Or do stories just want to deceive?

I once though to be a princess like you

Do

Wenna got up from the tower and went downstairs to see her father on both legs and her mother in the kitchen. Her father walked over and kissed her, and her mother baked them a pie. This was interrupted by several birds flying in and resting by Wenna.

WENNA

I believed in fairy tales

Where damsels cry and knights prevail

A princess in a far-off land with a perfect life

No more pain. No more strife

Wenna hugged her father, only for her father to melt into smoke and the scene fade into her actual home. Wenna walked over to the window to see a prince version of Tom and a princess version of herself riding away in a carriage. She tried to reach out to them, but the window turned to prison bars.

WENNA

But I don't feel like a princess nowadays, do you…

Still believe

That there's hope left for me

I'm don't think I'm beautiful

Anymore.

Wenna slipped from the window and sobbed.

WENNA

I'm no princess

But I'm in distress

Every day, nothing less

Why do I have to pretend to wait for some happiness to come

For me…

Here now that I'm grown up

Is it so wrong to have given up?

Do as you're told,

Silly common folk

Dreams are something the rich own!

Wenna closed the book and handed it back to the kid, who seemed unaware what she was saying.

WENNA

I have lost my fairy tales…

No more trying, you won't prevail.

But keep saying they'll come back

Restart your path…

But until that time, I don't feel like a princess

Anymore…

Just outside the town, Tom pushed back against the winds as he saw Mousehole in the distance. He only had a little farther to go.

TOM

I believe in fairy tales

Good will win

Love prevails

Just keep on holding then,

You'll see…

He skid down a path coated by branches and got caught on briars.

TOM

I still believe in you!

I'm still fighting

You can too

Keep trying…

He broke free of the briars and eventually made it into the streets of Mousehole. He held onto a lamppost, a light that still stood through the storm like a beacon.

TOM

Though it seems tough at first.

And life can sometimes hurt.

You're my princess so I believe

We can work. To bring you back to me.

Fairytales can be true for common folk as well

I can tell.

Tom climbed towards the center of town, where stands were demolished and destroyed. However, he kept going on.

TOM

Though I know it may be tough

And you think you've had enough.

True love must keep you powering through

If nothing else does, someone believes in you!

Normal people can be a princess too.

If you believe!

Wenna listened to hear Tom outside and looked towards the door. She and others rushed to the door and opened it slightly to see Tom struggling to stand through the winds.

TOM/WENNA

I know fairy tales are/aren't true.

But they can be…

If I have you…

The citizens went over to Tom and helped him up, practically dragging him inside against the storm before closing the cellar door behind them.


	17. Chapter 16

In the Eye of the Storm

The cellar door opened again when the winds died down. Wenna carefully opened the door, the townsfolk having rested on shelves and barrels overnight. One voice called out as the tired townsfolk looked outside at the blinding light. A survivor called out, "Is it over?"

Nobody was quite sure how to answer them. Everything was destroyed. Stalls were in pieces, flooding went through the streets. How could it possibly be over in all reality?

Wenna and Tom looked out to the walls and the boundaries of the town where the rain and winds still pounded heavily. He answered, "No…we're in the eye. The whole town is in the eye."

Wenna looked confused, then realized what Hepkor was doing, "There's no way out. The druid doesn't want to destroy the town. He wants to wipe us out. How many cans do we have left?"

A townsperson handed Tom two cans leftover from last night. One of them was half empty, and Sim had been gnawing on the other. Wenna looked terrified and explained, "He's cutting us off from everyone else. No ships will bring in more food. No way out."

"We can conserve food. See if there's anything else around town that we can use and split it up fairly for everyone." Tom suggested, but even he was unsure. From the back he could hear a familiar voice agreeing. "That is a wonderful idea."

Jacob drove up in a black car with two goons at his side. In the back of the car were vast quantities of food and meats. Jacob stepped up from the back seat and stood atop his car to greet Tom, "Welcome back Tom! Glad to have you!"

"Do you have anything left at the cannery?" Tom asked, hoping that there was something.

"Of course! Plenty for everyone…" Jacob started. The large group looked around with smiles and joy in relief. Jacob had come to help, despite him creating this mess, they would still accept the rewards with joy.

"For the right price," Jacob finished. Wenna became outraged and Tom held her back before she made a bad decision, "You started all this in the first place!"

"Wenna…" Tom was much more willing to give in if it was an option, but right now he was still loyal to what his friend had to say. Wenna reminded the crowd, "No. He started all this! You could have helped everyone! But you thought that money was more important than us."

The smiles faded from everyone's faces as soon as they appeared. Jacob's smile began to flinch in hesitation. He pointed at her and asked, "What's your name? Wenna right?"

Wenna snarled and huffed at him. She was steaming. Jacob's bill in his pocket looked enraged, but Jacob kept smiling as he recalled the woman, "Yeah. Your mother works at my cannery. She probably brings in a lot of money for you. Doesn't she?"

Wenna didn't say anything. Jacob continued to explain this story from his point of view, "So… yeah. I'm responsible for your house. I'm responsible for everyone's homes. And your food. And your economy. So… while I'd love to say I'm a bad guy. Or an evil shmuck to blame all your little pieces of garbage on, I got news for ya…"

"What?" Wenna asked, a little bold but also a little afraid. Jacob took a savage and brutal tone and his hair seemed to bend up into horns. "Without me. This town would fade off the planet. You need me, or you have no income. Nothing to keep you from tearing each other limb from limb. So… if you don't mind. I'd love it if you would appreciate it. We good?"

The group of townsfolk paled. Jacob turned back to his big bright corny smile and announced, "Now! The first rule of business is supply and demand. Low supply, high demand. It only makes sense that each can be about…let's say nine hundred pounds?"

"You sick sadistic…" Wenna hissed slowly. Jacob corrected her instantly, "There are children here."

"Why are you doing this?" Wenna interrogated further, and Jacob was more than happy to answer. "Oddly enough, by trying to destroy me, that old fool just ensured I'm more in control than ever. I own the whole town, and if I want, the whole isle. I don't need your money. I already own you."

Tom looked bloodthirsty, but inhaled heavily and held his tin cans tightly. He decided, "It's ok. I think we'll make do with what we have."

"With what?" Jacob countered. He snapped his fingers and his lackeys got out of the car with batons. Tom tried to back away, but soon they smacked the baton against his side and the cans went clattering to the ground. Jacob picked up both cans and looked everyone in the eyes as he dumped the fish into the mud below. He snickered, then got back in his car, "Let me know if you want to listen to reason."

He was driven away while Tom struggled to recover from the blow. Tom wasn't a bulky person and hadn't gotten into many fights at school, so he wasn't exactly expecting to hit with a metal baton today. Wenna bent down on one knee and eyed the muddied shredded fish on the ground before looking back to Tom and offering her arm to help him to his feet. This was soon followed by her screeching a variety of insults in Jacob's general direction.

"Are you alright?" Wenna asked. Tom responded in the same deep voice he faked when he first met Wenna. "Oh yeah. I'm perfectly-Ow!"

He winced to his feet then held his side as he looked where Jacob had drove off. Tom deduced that, "If he got us, he's done it to every shop in town."

"We need to pay him to live." The fishmonger shouted from the crowd. Wenna came up with another plan, "No. If someone can go out in the storm and catch more fish, we'll make it."

"If they ever come back from it!" Another townsperson reminded them. Tom stood to his feet amidst the arguing and took a deep breath. Sim approached him and gnawed on his hand to get his attention. They both looked at each other like they knew what was happening next. But in neither of their minds did they believe they would survive the ordeal. Tom took out his father's handkerchief and nodded at it, like it was his guide.

"I'll do it." Tom closed his eyes and decided. The townsfolk quieted and Wenna looked at him. She didn't shout or anything dramatic. Tom was always the romantic. She just asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I worked to make this place my home. I'll work to keep it that way." Tom verified his decision. Wenna held his hand tightly and nodded. She could feel Tom holding it tighter as he became more and more scared. She agreed, "Ok. Then I'll help you do it."

She let go of him and walked in the direction of the Boathouse. Tom and Sim followed behind, knowing what they had to do.

The Boathouse was mostly undisturbed. It had endured the storm well enough, as it was still standing. However, many of the supplies had been thrown off the walls and papers cluttered the floors. Wenna stepped over them on her way to the back room. Tom soon followed behind with the same reaching steps. Sim, on the other hand, decided to walk over everything, and thought the new decorum was an improvement.

Wenna opened the door to a smaller room where in the center was an unpainted fishing boat. However, some things were different. Tom couldn't put his finger on it. Then he realized that the boat was equipped with ramps and multiple railings. It had been designed so Joshua could fish again. However, in this situation, more railings would be helpful for enduring the storm.

"Ta da. I wish I could have shown it to you under better circumstances," Wenna remarked with a shrug, "but it was safe in here while all the other boats were damaged in the storm."

Tom felt against the hull, the craftsmanship of someone who planned the vessel with immense work.

"It's a beautiful work." Tom thanked her. Wenna shrugged like it was nothing, "I kept working at it. Thought it was good. Planned a lot of it. Improvised more. Eventually I found something I was comfortable with."

She bit her lip then began to pull a rope that revealed the sunlight of the harbor. Wenna began to push on one side of the ship while Tom pushed from the other side. Gradually the boat fell down the ramp into the water below. Wenna held it back with a rope attached to the wall, and eventually moored it to the Boathouse.

Wenna put her hands on her hips and breathed a hefty sigh, "We need to prepare some supplies. You know what you need?"

"Your father taught me well." Tom grabbed a few things off the wall. From the entryway came a reply, "Yes, I did."

Tom and Wenna turned to see Joshua roll in through the door and look through to the boat in the water. Wenna tried to help him in but Joshua was more than capable. He took this opportunity to crack a joke, "And here was me thinking you were running off to go see other humans every night. Boy was I wrong."

"Dad-" Wenna was a little hurt by the comment but Joshua soon silenced her. "Wenna…you amazing thing. I cannot express how proud I am of you. You have saved us all…And Tom? I hope whatever you face out there, you know that your vessel was built by the most skilled craftsman in the isle."

Wenna hugged her father, who returned the favor. After Tom watched for a second, Joshua opened one of his arms out to him and motioned for him to join them. The hug that followed would be the last one they had together.

Wenna broke the hug then looked at Tom and asked, "Are you ready?"

Tom thought for a moment, then looked at both of them and said, squeezintheir hands tightly, "Yes. I'm ready."

"Ok."


	18. Chapter 17

The Finale

Tom carried two large fishing nets aboard the ship and set them down in the center. Wenna brought a giant rope aboard and Sim brought a small feather. It wasn't useful in any way but Sim refused to put forth any more effort. Tom came aboard and began to untie the tether to the harbor. Wenna and the townsfolk gathered at the pier to wave at him as he left. Tom looked to Sim, who sat perched by the wheel of the ship. Tom took the wheel firmly with both hands and steered the boat towards the gaping maw of Mousehole's namesake.

TOM

I never knew it could hurt so badly

I never knew I could feel so alone

When I set sail this empty vessel

I never knew I could miss a home

But now the air grows colder

And I feel a little older

And this empty vessel seems to grow

He fearfully looked out at the hole, where he saw the waves crash and wind flow like the oncoming veil of death, the door to the onslaught marked only by the porthole.

TOM

How did you change all those stories?

How did you lighten the dark?

How have you somehow carried

Me through an unbroken part?

Tom looked back at the port, hesitating. He could still turn back and hide if he chose to.

TOM

Here on an empty vessel

Where a coward takes a chance

Faking a courageous stance.

He banged his head against the wheel, practically screaming at himself for this stupid decision.

TOM

How could I be brave?

Is that so depraved?

Have I lost my mind?

Is that something to find?

Here on an empty vessel

Out on the great unknown.

Tom slowly looked up, where Sim was pawing at his arm in the most comforting she could be without having to show she cared.

TOM

No.

Let the wind show

And endurance flow

Because I know

This empty vessel

Won't be empty anymore

He held his head high and heaved to brace for impact.

TOM

I've made a home here

Without fear

Or hesitation

And this home here

Brings forth a sensation

And the light appears

But I'm right here

Filled with determination!

He kept staring into the hole with steely eyed determination and his boat came through the hole and was immediately turned upwards by the waves. Tom steered the wheel downward to break the ship free of the waves grasp and down into the rapids.

TOM

I will face down

Stand my ground,

I have a home worth living for!

Because my sad little empty vessel

Isn't empty anymore.

The ocean twisted and turned, while Tom struggled to keep the wheel from spinning out of control. A crackle of lightning flashed above him and Tom twisted left to keep the ship stable. Sim hooked her claws onto the deck of the ship and hung on for dear life while rain spattered and battered the boat endlessly.

"Hold on Sim!" Tom shouted to the feline. Sim decided to have her own song about regretting this idea, but it sounded more like panicked howling so it wasn't worth including.

The splashes of waves slipped underneath the ship and launched it in the air, but it came back down with a crash, and Tom kept going forward it did it again and Tom lost his footing, sending the wheel flying in a random direction. Tom pulled heavily against the wheel as it fought against him until finally he was holding it in one place with one hand.

Tom reached behind him and pulled a large lever that turned on the motor of the sailboat, pushing Tom forward up and over the waves into the open ocean.

Thankfully the sails were down and Tom was utilizing the motor as he powered into the next push. Eventually, he was clear of the shore and the waves died down as the storm continued to rain down and thunder above. Tom pulled out a crank and heaved the anchor over the side of the ship with both arms.

Tom deposited the net over the side of the net then returned to keeping the boat stable. He held his position for a moment then felt the tug of the waves yanking him down. He grunted and snarled as he pulled the net back.

"You will not end this! I won't let you!" Tom insisted. He pulled back, trying to pull the net back up. Sim bit into Tom's coat and began to tug back as well to help him pull it in. As Tom pulled up the net he began to laugh as he saw that the net was loaded with fish flapping and slapping wildly. The harsh winds and rain meant nothing to Tom as he pulled the rope along the pulleys around him and brought the fish aboard. In a joyful craze, he tossed another net over the side.

And just as before, the net was loaded with fish. Only this time, when Tom began to pull up the net, it stopped suddenly, like something else was pulling at the trap. Tom groaned and grunted as he pulled harder and harder to bring up the net but to no avail. He froze in his tracks when he heard a voice behind him.

"Hello Tom. May I ask what you're doing?"

Out of the corner of his eye Tom saw the druid standing over the first net of fish. His staff illuminated his empty neck and long beard. His hood daunted over Tom like the storm above, but Tom no longer cowered in his face. Tom turned to him and stood strong with Sim at his side.

"Those people wronged me. You know they deserve to pay the consequences of their actions." Hepkor persisted.

"That was Jacob. Not the people of Mousehole."

"But they succumbed to Jacob did they not? Gave in to evil because they were afraid? You shouldn't have tried to stop me, Tom. Now… I'm afraid we have a problem."

Hepkor struck the deck of the ship and the second net of fish burst into flame. Tom quickly turned back to the net and looked in horror as he tried to remove the net. Tom shouted out in despair, "No!

He cut the net through and let it fall back into the waves. He couldn't afford fire aboard his ship. Then he might lose everything. Once the net was released, he turned back to Hepkor, who raised his staff to burn the other net aboard the ship. Tom ran towards the druid and held the staff back with both hands, the light of the staff flickering as Tom held it back. Hepkor smacked Tom away with his free hand and became enraged.

"You dare touch me! I gave you the opportunity to walk away! I tried to stop you from coming back! But your pride won't let you accept defeat! This is justice, Tom, can't you just accept it?" Hepkor screeched and breathed in and out in rage. Irony aside, Tom backed away from the blow to look at the druid. He squinted for a second then asked himself aloud, "Didn't you have a fur scarf?"

Sos leapt onto the back of Tom's neck and dug his teeth into Tom's skin. Tom shouted out in pain and tried to grab the mink as it clawed at his flesh and bit over and over. Up from the floor Sim tackled the canine and knocked it down to the deck.

Sos fell on his back but immediately recovered with a loud hiss. Sim howled at him, hunching her back on the prowl. Sos hissed once more then leapt for Sim's throat. The cat flipped over on impact but began to claw at the mink as they tumbled around the boat.

Tom rubbed his neck as he tried to recover from the attack, but only barely dodged Hepkor's next swing for his head. Tom ducked down and rushed away as Hepkor advanced, swinging his staff right and left. Every time it struck the ship it would flash brightly and crackle with power.

Tom eventually made his way over to an oar and as Hepkor brought the staff down once again, he held the oar up with a steady glare. The staff collided with the oar and Hepkor continued to push Tom downward with the weapon. Sparks flew out randomly from the staff as he pushed harder and harder against the oar.

"This was your doing Tom!" Hepkor roared to the sound of the waves.

"I can't hear a word you're saying!"

Hepkor brought the staff back to make another swing for Tom's head, but the sound of thunder signaled the storm was riling up again. The boat rocked back and forth and a massive wave came up over the side of the starboard and knocked Hepkor off balance. He fell to the other side, hitting Sos in the process and falling over the side, holding onto the railing with both hands. Tom ran to go help him and looked over at the druid as the ocean threatened to suck him underneath its waves.

Tom grabbed onto Hepkor's arms and began to pull up, shouting to the druid, "Hold on Hepkor!"

Through the thunder and the lightning, the two worked to pull Hepkor back onto the ship. The druid lay there breathing heavily in exhaustion while Tom fell back on his rear. Hepkor held himself up with his walking stick and looked out at Tom. His hood had fallen back from the impact, and he looked much more mortal than the unstoppable force he made himself out to be. He breathed lightly and said, "You saved me."

Tom took several deep breaths and nodded, affirming the accusation, "Obviously."

Tom stood up and struggled to get his footing, holding onto the railings to maintain balance. Hepkor did the same, but walked up behind Tom and raised his staff high to knock Tom down once again.

He prepared to land the fatal blow but a loud crack rang from the sky to Hepkor's staff. A bolt of lightning flew through the staff to Hepkor and the druid became overrun with electricity. He screamed out in pain and his staff exploded, falling apart in multiple directions. Hepkor fell backward, holding himself tightly as he recovered from the blast.

Tom stood over him and contemplated helping him. Hepkor answered this question by holding out his hand to refuse help. He quickly looked up at Tom with glowing green eyes. He got up to run, but began to fade into fog. His being turned to mist and flew past Tom towards the ocean. As Hepkor dove into the waves, the boat began to rumble. Hepkor rose on one of the waves, nothing but a shroud with glowing eyes over the vast ocean. He extended his hands forward and lightning struck beside the ship, rocking it heavily. Hepkor twisted back his arms and the ropes of the ship grabbed at Tom's neck, dragging him across the deck where the ship's wheel began to spin like a winch, pulling him away.

Sim leapt onto Tom and began to gnaw at the rope. Sos shook off his wounds and turned towards the fish net and began to do some gnawing of his own, trying to push the fish back into the sea. Tom continued to gasp and was finally freed as the rope let out a snap of breaking. Tom staggered on his hands and knees, trying to breath while Sim tended to the troublesome mink problem. Tom tripped towards the chain of the anchor and began to pull it up, only to run into a heavy tugging on the other side.

Seaweed was hooked around the anchor as it was raised up the side of the ship. Tom was nearly yanked off the side of the boat by the plants as they pulled back on him, but continued to persevere, breaking the seaweed and opposite thrust. Tom rushed to the ship's wheel and began to turn the fishing craft towards Hepkor. The druid looked in shock as the wave beneath him collapsed, and he fell back aboard the ship.

Hepkor was stunned, but recovered soon and was back to his attack. He opened both arms and a stream of green fire propelled towards Tom and pushed him away from the wheel. The boat went free, rocking heavily to the right side. Hepkor tried to keep his balance, but was hit with another wave and completely fell over the side into the water below. He tried to reach up to Tom, and Tom ran to help him once more, but the waves were too strong and the seaweed began to coil around him, catching onto his legs. He was submerged beneath the depths and dragged along the underside of the boat.

Hepkor's last sight was a large blade headed for his head as his world was clouded with salt water.

Tom watched in horror, then looked at the net of fish behind him and the ship's wheel. He rushed to the wheel and held it steady, eventually stabilizing the craft as waves continued to crash against the hull. A few fish had become free, but it was nothing he couldn't fix.

Tom kept looking for the entrance into Mousehole but with little luck as the night sky overcame everything. He continuously looked for the lighthouse, any sign of the mainland, or anything at all.

At the lighthouse, Joshua looked to light the oil of the lighthouse, but his matches were quickly soaked by the wind and rain coming from the storm outside. His whale oil became dampened and dispersed quickly as Joshua struggled to light the flame.

Wenna soon came up to investigate the situation and quickly ducked below as the wind and rain flew in from the storm. Joshua shouted to her, "The wick is damp! We won't be able to light it!"

Wenna breathed harshly then edged her father to come back downstairs. "I have an idea! Come on!"

Wenna took the sails' cloth that was strewn about town and the boathouse and cut it open with a pocket knife. The townsfolk watched as Wenna stitched together with spare parts a hanging triangular lantern. With a set of matches she lit the lantern and called to everyone else, "Grab anything you can! Make as many as you can!"

She hung the lantern in the middle of town and soon the rest of the town joined in. They knit and sewed lanterns and hung them all around town until the entirety of Mousehole lit up like a Christmas tree. Every candle was lit throughout the town and Christmas trees were lit up along the edges of the town like beacons and lights.

Through the raging storm and the darkness, Tom saw a bright light calling out to him like a beacon. With a look of joy, he turned towards the light and set course for the lantern's shine. Tom looked in hope at the sight and soon could see people. Only to discover he wasn't headed to the right light.

Outlined in the spotlight was Mr. Monopoly himself, smiling as Tom got too close for comfort. Tom tried to steer away, but he heard the crunching of his boat rubbing aboard the beach. Jacob's lackeys tossed hooks onto the ship and dragged the boat further to land and Jacob smugly stepped towards the boat. On cue, a ramp was set for him and he came aboard.

Tom stood in defiance before Jacob, blocking his path to the fish. Jacob cocked his head and asked, "What are you doing Tom? Being a fool? You know I don't like competitors. And you know what I do to people who stand in my way."

He gestured towards the fish then stepped forward, expecting Tom to move. Tom held his ground. Jacob chuckled, then shook his head. With a quick move, he took a baton out from his belt and struck it against Tom's head with a loud clang. Tom fell from his stance and over the side of the ship onto the sand below. Sim quickly leapt up at Jacob and tried to claw him, but Jacob smacked the feline away with a crack and sent her to the other side of the ship.

Jacob smiled over the fish then sniffed and coughed, "Wow that stinks. Ugh!"

He looked back at the fish then looked down for Tom to see some footsteps headed towards the cliffside. Jacob sighed and looked to his minions, "When I get back, I want these fish to be back at the cannery! Ya hear me?"

The goons nervously nodded and let Jacob pass on his way to the cliffside. The jagged cliffs were wet and coated in green seaweed and moss. Tom rushed to some rocks and felt his side where he had fallen from the boat. His vision was blurry and he felt like he wanted to go to sleep. But the clopping of Jacob's boots headed towards his rocks gave him more than enough incentive to keep running.

"Come on Tom! Just give in! I'm the whole reason this town even cares about you! All those friends you have? Wenna? Joshua? You wouldn't have them if it wasn't for me!" Came the Monopoly Man's voice. Tom scrambled along the cliffside and kept running until he came to the edge of the cliff. He had to hold to the side of the rocks to keep from running into the harsh waters below. Jacob turned around the corner and saw him struggling with a grin.

"Come on Tom! You're already a hero! Tom Bawcock! The man who risked life and limb to go out the day before Christmas Eve and bring back food for the small town of Mousehole! Real classy stuff. History won't mind if I happen to fine the fish, will it? History won't talk about that will it?" Jacob reasoned. He came towards TOM spinning the baton playfully. "Just like nobody will remember that I dumped those fish guts all over Hepkor because he wanted what's mine away from me."

"They aren't…yours…" Tom bleated. Jacob barked right back, "Then what are they Tom? People? They work for me. That's all that matters. That they sit down and shut up. And you? You're no different in the end. And I'll keep it that way! People worship spirits and God during the holidays, but in the end, I own you! I own everyone!"

Jacob prepared the baton like a baseball bat and squinted to line up his blow with the cliff. Finally, he was a mere six feet from Tom when he finished his ranting, "I'm a real God!"

As he neared Tom, a massive wave crashed against him. Jacob slipped to the right, but didn't fall. He kept to the side of the cliff and watched the waves. A tree above him crackled and snapped in the wind and broke apart. It went it tumbling down the cliffside against Jacob, crushing him. He was knocked off the cliff into the gaping jaws of the storm as it dragged him under and the tree weighed him into the depths.

Tom turned around at this and held up against the cliff on his way back to the boat. When he got back, Jacob's workers didn't stop him. He stopped once he saw them, but instead, they worked to get him aboard. They hoisted him over their arms and set him by the wheel. When that was done, they knew it was the right thing to do, and they removed the ramp and pushed the boat back out to sea.

Tom had trouble seeing, but he soon stabilized. He thought of his friends and his home and he looked onward at the sea. Through the black he saw a new light like a pinhole in the darkness that lit the path. Tom steered once again towards the light but began to droop downwards, starting to lose consciousness. Suddenly he felt a light bite at his hand. Sim looked at him from his shoulder and licked Tom's ear and bit his hair to keep him awake. Against all odds, Tom entered the light.

Everyone stood around the pier and watched the entrance of the small town. Many families held themselves close anxiously, until one little girl shouted out loudly, "He's back!"

Noise erupted from the town as it crowded around the child. Sure enough, just visible as it peeked in through the hole was Tom's ship. Wenna ran around the crowd down to the concrete pier and prepared to help Tom back to land.

Tom slid up to the dock and tossed a rope to Wenna lazily. He was too tired and beaten up to do much else. She tied it to a bollard and did the same to the other side then down a small bridge for him to get to land. Tom stumbled and limped across it, collapsing into Wenna's arms. She hugged him and held him up, "It's ok Tom. It's over. You did it."

Tom hugged her tightly and began to sob loudly. She was right. As the storm above began to disperse, so too did the pain from the experience. Tom still lost consciousness.

The next morning, Tom slowly stirred as Sim kissed his nose and sat on his stomach, causing immense pain. He winced and grumbled as he tried to get up. Tom had a bandaged side and head. Sim was also in bandages around her ribs where Jacob had struck her. Tom sat up in pain, and reached for a set of crutches by his bed. Tom suddenly noticed he was in a bed, not on the couch. He also noticed he was in Wenna's room.

"I thought it might be safer for your recovery than the couch." Wenna explained. Tom chuckled and looked towards her. She was standing in the doorway watching him, and she invited, "Come on! We're all waiting."

Meanwhile, the baker was preparing a brand-new pie. He set the shell, dusted it with sugar and filled it with skinned fish before covering it. As Tom came into the dining room on his crutches, he sat down next to Joshua. Joshua looked at him with a pleasant smile and a nod.

"Hello?" An unfamiliar voice rang through the house. Wenna could be heard bounding to the door where an older woman looked inside. Wenna hugged her tightly and began to talk with her. Joshua rolled around to get a better look at what was going on. With a hopeful cry he asked, "Catherine?"

Wenna's mother came in and looked over the dinner that was being prepared, then at Joshua. She was still in her work clothes, but she no longer had the hairnet or rubber gloves. She looked exhausted, but still happy, "Hello Joshua! It's wonderful to see you again darling."

She bent down and gave him a kiss. Joshua was crying tears of joy, but Catherine was never that sappy.

"Enough drabble. I'm starving. Let's eat." She cheered. The baker in the kitchen shouted to them, "I couldn't agree more!"

The Baker brought in a large pie from the kitchen. The top of the pie remained out of view to the audience. The whole group sat down to eat around the pie while the Baker set it down.

"Ahh…" Everyone's eagerness turned to surprise and disgust, "Ah!"

The full pie came into view and while it was beautiful, there were two fish heads staring at everyone.

"I had nothing to decorate it with, so I made do. It's filled with all the types of fish that Mr. Bawcock caught. Bon Appetit!" The Baker admitted then went back into the kitchen. Everyone else put up a smile and began to cut into the pie around the fish heads. Thankfully, MOWZER leapt onto the table and with a smile and eager eyes, she bit into the fish heads and ran off with both of them. Everyone else finally dug in and indulged into the Stargazing pie that was created for the occasion. Now every year, we celebrate Tom Bawcock on that fateful night, the night before Christmas, where everyone was scared, but a light shined through on December 23rd, 1927, in a little town in Cornwall.

Joshua took up control of the cannery after Jacob's mysterious disappearance. Joshua was dressed up in a purple suit down the catwalk of the cannery. He pulled out a whistle suddenly. He made sure the workers got everything they needed. Days off for family, worker policies, and even dental. But most of all, he would invite his workers to cannery employee only events where they could have fun and compete in pie eating competitions and the like.

When Joshua blew the whistle, he was also blowing the whistle at an employee rugby match beside the cannery while the families cheered in the background.

And Sim, sweet Sim. Well, Tom had decided to do something about the high stray cat population in the Isle and opened an Animal Shelter where everyone in the Isle could come and get their own cats and dogs.

Tom handed out adoption forms to all the boys and girls who were picking up pussy cats with their parents. But Tom never left Mowzer's side. And the two were the best of friends until the end. Now you may be wondering what happened with Tom and Wenna. The camera showed the two of them painted the boat he had used on his voyage. Eventually they bump into one another as they were doing either side they're still learning what they have. They'll get there eventually. Dana on the other hand…started dating again and there was this lovely young man from York. But, she was still in charge, and Tom would always keep on watching him. And they all lived happily ever after…


	19. Chapter 18

Epilogue

"Rubbish!" The artist called out from the crowd at the Dynaarch Monarch. The old man and the crowd listening to the story turned to him.

"What about the economy? Jacob's death must have been disastrous! And how come we've never seen this cat shelter? Or there are no records of this Tom Bawcock?" The artist continued to whine. A few sailors tried to step in but the old man intervened, "Now. I understand your confusion. But…this is but a story. Tom Bawcock may not have been his name. And certainly, if Jacob died it would have wrecked the industry, but every story is only partially true. The story and its logic isn't important, but the lessons we learn from it. If you see it differently, be my guest, but everyone has a story. Not one is alike. But we can all learn from them."

The old man stood up from his chair carefully and added, "Now, I'm tired. I'll be down the way if you need me."

The old man went out the doors to the pub onto the streets of Mousehole. He waved to the townsfolk young and old and smiled as the sun began to set. Or perhaps it was rising. The old man came upon a bench and sat down. He was soon joined by a black and grey cat who leapt to his side and curled up in his lap.

"Hello Sim, old friend." The old man pet the feline. Sim weakly gnawed on his fingers. Tom, exhaled slowly, and asked, "Come to rest with me?"

The cat began to purr weakly.

"I had hoped so."

He watched the sun rise and set simultaneously. An end and a beginning. He took out his handkerchief from his jacket. It wasn't his father's anymore. It was his story, not his fathers or Dana's or Wenna's. He looked at the old rag and spotted a young boy in a flat-cap hat.

"You there!" Tom called out. The boy turned and Tom ushered him closer.

"Yessir?" the boy asked. Tom cleared his throat and said, "My story is ending. I can't wait to see what's next. Tell me. Where are you going?"

"That old house down the street. Ms Constance wants me there yessir." The boy answered. Tom nodded, "Well… I hope you have fun. Please…remember my story. Remember it's end, and it's beginning. So until then. Thank you. Thank you so much. I loved sharing my story. And I hope you enjoy the next one."

Tom passed the handkerchief to the boy.

"Thank you again. Have fun with Ms. Constance in the old house. And thank you for listening. You best get going now. It's time for me to go." Tom said. The boy ran off with the handkerchief in his pocket. Tom fell to the back of the bench, "Thank you so much…now, Sim and I are going to go. We hope you liked our story."

Goodbye.


End file.
